The tracer of lost persons

O^A^rvv^ #*<?

The TRACER of
LOST PERSONS

WORKS OF ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

THE RECKONING

IOLE

Cardigan

The Maid at Arms
•Lorraine
Maids of Paradise
Ashes of Empire
The Red Republic
The King in Yellow
A Maker of Moons
A King and a Few Dukes

The Conspirators
The Cambric Mask
The Haunts of Men
Outsiders

A Young Man in a Hurry
The Mystery of Choice
In Search of the Un
known
In the Quarter

FOR CHILDREN

Mountain-Land

Forest-Land Orchard Land

River-Land Outdoorland

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY, NEW YORK

The TRACER of
LOST PERSONS

By R. W. Chambers

D. APPLETON AND COMPANY
NEW YORK MCMVI

COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY
THE CURTIS PUBLISHING COMPANY

COPYRIGHT, 1906, BY
ROBERT W. CHAMBERS

Published June, 1906

TO

MR. AND MRS. WILLIAM A. HALL

56759?

LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS

PACING
PAGK

•'"Then in charity say that word ! ' " Frontispiece

(<<l am sure of it,' said the Tracer of Lost

Persons" 48

ft e Standing there . . . looking at me with

such strange beautiful eyes ' ' . . 90

" ( This is atrocious ! ' she murmured, halting

to confront him" . . ... .... 170

" e As though . . . scarcely sound asleep as

yet'" . . 198

(( ' Would you mind sitting here for a few mo
ments ? ' " . 264

For the harmony of the world, like that
of a harp, is made up of discords.

— HERACLITUS.

THE TRACER OF LOST
PERSONS

CHAPTER I

HE was thirty-three, agreeable to look at,
equipped with as much culture and intelligence as
is tolerated east of Fifth Avenue and west of
Madison. He had a couple of elaborate rooms at
the Lenox Club, a larger income than seemed to be
good for him, and no profession. It follows that
he was a pessimist before breakfast. Besides, it's
a bad thing for a man at thirty-three to come to
the conclusion that he has seen all the most at
tractive girls in the world and that they have been
vastly overrated. So, when a club servant with
gilt buttons on his coat tails knocked at the door,
the invitation to enter was not very cordial. He
of the buttons knocked again to take the edge off
before he entered; then opened the door and un
burdened himself as follows :

" Mr. Gatewood, sir, Mr. Kerns's compliments,
1

THE -PHACER OF LQST PERSONS

and wishes 'to •'tnbfr if :'e :niay ?ave 'is coffee served
at your tyble, sir."

Gatewood, before the mirror, gave a vicious
twist to his tie, inserted a pearl scarf pin, and re
garded the effect with gloomy approval.

" Say to Mr. Kerns that I am — flattered," he
replied morosely ; " and tell Henry I want him."

"'Enry, sir? Yes, sir."

The servant left; one of the sleek club valets
came in, softly sidling.

" Henry ! "

"Sir?"

" I'll wear a white waistcoat, if you don't
object."

The valet laid out half a dozen.

" Which one do you usually wear when I'm
away, Henry? Which is your favorite? "

"Sir?"

" Pick it out and don't look injured, and don't
roll up your eyes. I merely desire to borrow it
for one day."

" Very good, sir."

" And, Henry, hereafter always help yourself
to my best cigars. Those I smoke may injure you.
I've attempted to conceal the keys, but you will,
of course, eventually discover them under that
loose tile on the hearth."

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Yes, sir; thanky V sir,"; returned ''^the' '-valet

gravely.

" And— Henry ! "

" Sir ? " with martyred dignity.

" When you are tired of searching for my oli-
vine and opal pin, just find it, for a change. I'd
like to wear that pin for a day or two if it would
not inconvenience you."

" Very good, sir ; I will 'unt it hup, sir."

Gatewood put on his coat, took hat and gloves
from the unabashed valet, and sauntered down
to the sunny breakfast room, where he found
Kerns inspecting a morning paper and leisurely
consuming grapefruit with a cocktail on the
side.

" Hullo," observed Kerns briefly.

" I'm not on the telephone," snapped Gatewood.

" I beg your pardon ; how are you, dear
friend?"

" 7 don't know how I am," retorted Gatewood
irritably ; " how the devil should a man know how
he is?"

" Everything going to the bowwows, as usual,
dear friend? "

"As usual. Oh, read your paper, Tommy!
You know well enough I'm not one of those tail-
wagging imbeciles who wakes up in the morning

THE TRACER OF 'LOST PERSONS

singih-g : like- u 'halfwitted -lurk. Why should I,
with this taste in my mouth, and the laundress
using vitriol, and Henry sneering at my cigars ? "
He yawned and cast his eyes toward the ceiling.
" Besides, there's too much gilt all over this club !
There's too much everywhere. Half the world is
stucco, the rest rococo. Where's that Martini I
bid for?"

Kerns, undisturbed, applied himself to cocoa
and toasted muffins. Grapefruit and an amber-
tinted accessory were brought for the other and
sampled without mirth. However, a little later
Gatewood said : " Well, are you going to read
your paper all day? "

" What you need," said Kerns, laying the paper
aside, " is a job — any old kind would do, dear
friend."

" I don't want to make any more money."

" I don't want you to. I mean a job where
you'd lose a lot and be scared into thanking
Heaven for carfare. You9 re a nice object for the
breakfast table ! "

" Bridge. I will be amiable enough by noon
time."

' Yes, you're endurable by noon time, as a rule.
When you're forty you may be tolerated after five
o'clock ; when you're fifty your wife and children

4

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

might even venture to emerge from the cellar after
dinner "

"Wife!"

" I said wife," replied Kerns, as he calmly
watched his man.

He had managed it well, so far, and he was wise
enough not to overdo it. An interval of silence
was what the situation required.

" I wish I had a wife," muttered Gatewood
after a long pause.

" Oh, haven't you said that every day for five
years ? Wife ! Look at the willing assortment of
dreams playing Sally Waters around town. Isn't
this borough a bower of beauty — a flowery thicket
where the prettiest kind in all the world grow
under glass or outdoors? And what do you do?
You used to pretend to prowl about inspecting the
yearly crop of posies, growling, cynical, dissatis
fied ; but you've even given that up. Now you
only point your nose skyward and squall for a
mate, and yowl mournfully that you never have
seen your ideal. / know you"

" I never have seen my ideal," retorted Gate-
wood sulkily, " but I know she exists — somewhere
between heaven and Hoboken."

' You're sure, are you? "

" Oh, Pm sure. And, rich or poor, good or bad,
5

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

she was fashioned for me alone. That's a theory
of mine ; you needn't accept it ; in fact, it's none of
your business, Tommy."

" All the same," insisted Kerns, " did you ever
consider that if your ideal does exist somewhere, it
is morally up to you to find her? "

" Haven't I inspected every debutante for ten
years? You don't expect me to advertise for an
ideal, do you — object, matrimony? "

Kerns regarded him intently. " Now, I'm go
ing to make a vivid suggestion, Jack. In fact,
that's why I subjected myself to the ordeal of
breakfasting with you. It's none of my business,
as you so kindly put it, but— shall I suggest
something? "

"Go ahead," replied Gatewood, tranquilly
lighting a cigarette. " I know what you'll say."

" No, you don't. Firstly, you are having such
a good time in this world that you don't really
enjoy yourself — isn't that so? "

" I— well I— well, let it go at that."

" Secondly, with all your crimes and felonies,
you have one decent trait left: you really would
like to fall in love. And I suspect you'd even
marry."

'There are grounds," said Gatewood guard
edly, " for your suspicions. Et apres? "

6

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS
" Good. Then there's a way ! I know ':

" Oh, don't tell me you * know a girl,' or any
thing like that !" began Gatewood sullenly. " I've
heard that before, and I won't meet her."

" I don't want you to ; I don't know anybody.
All I desire to say is this : I do know a way. The
other day I noticed a sign on Fifth Avenue :

KEEN & CO.

TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS

It was a most extraordinary sign; and having a
little unemployed imagination I began to specu
late on how Keen & Co. might operate, and I won
dered a little, too, that the conditions of life in
this city could enable a firm to make a living by
devoting itself exclusively to the business of hunt
ing up missing people."

Kerns paused, partly to light a cigarette,
partly for diplomatic reasons.

"What has all this to do with me?" inquired
Gatewood curiously; and diplomacy scored one.

" Why not try Keen & Co.? "

"Try them? Why? I haven't lost anybody,
have I?"

" You haven't precisely lost anybody, but the
fact remains that you can't -find somebody" re-
2 7

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

turned Kerns coolly. " Why not employ Keen &
Co. to look for her?"

" Look for whom, in Heaven's name? "

" Your ideal."

" Look for — for my ideal ! Kerns, you're
crazy. How the mischief can anybody hunt for
somebody who doesn't exist ? "

'' You say that she does exist."

" But I can't prove it, man."

" You don't have to ; it's up to Keen & Co. to
prove it. That's why you employ them."

" What wild nonsense you talk ! Keen & C$.
might, perhaps, be able to trace the concrete,
but how are they going to trace and find the
abstract ? "

" She isn't abstract ; she is a lovely, healthy, and
youthful concrete object — if, as you say, she does
exist."

" How can I prove she exists? "

" You don't have to ; they do that."

" Look here," said Gatewood almost angrily,
" do you suppose that if I were ass enough to go
to these people and tell them that I wanted to find
my ideal '

"Don't tell them that!"

" But how "

" There is no necessity for going into such
8

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

trivial details. All you need say is : ' I am very
anxious to find a young lady ' — and then describe
her as minutely as you please. Then, when they
locate a girl of that description they'll notify you ;
you will go, judge for yourself whether she is the
one woman on earth — and, if disappointed, you
need only shake your head and murmur : ' Not the
same ! ' And it's for them to find another."

" I won't do it ! " said Gatewood hotly.

" Why not ? At least, it would be amusing.
You haven't many mental resources, and it might
occupy you for a week or two."

Gatewood glared.

" You have a pleasant way of putting things
this morning, haven't you ? "

"I don't want to be pleasant: I want to jar
you. Don't I care enough about you to breakfast
with you? Then I've a right to be pleasantly un
pleasant. I can't bear to watch your mental and
spiritual dissolution — a man like you, with all
your latent ability and capacity for being nobody
in particular — which is the sort of man this nation
needs. Do you want to turn into a club-window
gazer like Van Bronk? Do you want to become
another Courtlandt Allerton and go rocking down
the avenue — a grimacing, tailor-made sepulcher?
— the pompous obsequies of a dead intellect? —

9

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

a funeral on two wavering legs, carrying the
corpse of all that should be deathless in a man?
Why, Jack, I'd rather see you in bankruptcy —
I'd rather see you trying to lead a double life in
a single flat on seven dollars and a half a week —
I'd almost rather see you every day at breakfast
than have it come to that !

"Wake up and get jocund with life! Why,
you could have all good citizens stung to death if
you chose. It isn't that I want you to make
money ; but I want you to worry over somebody
besides yourself — not in Wall Street — a pool and
its money are soon parted. But in your own home,
where a beautiful wife and seven angel children
have you dippy and close to the ropes ; where the
housekeeper gets a rake off, and the cook is red
headed and comes from Sligo, and the butler's
cousin will bear watching, and the chauffeur is a
Frenchman, and the coachman's uncle is a Harlem
vet, and every scullion in the establishment lies,
drinks, steals, and supports twenty satiated rela
tives at your expense. That would mean the mak
ing of you ; for, after all, Jack, you are no genius
—you're a plain, non-partisan, uninspired, clean-
built, wholesome citizen, thank God! — the sort
whose unimaginative mission is to pitch in with
eighty-odd millions of us and, like the busy coral
10

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

creatures, multiply with all your might, and make
this little old Republic the greatest, biggest, finest
article that an overworked world has ever yet put
up ! ... Now you can call for help if you
choose."

Gatewood's breath returned slowly. In an in
timacy of many years he had never suspected that
sort of thing from Kerns. That is why, no doubt,
the opinions expressed by Kerns stirred him to
an astonishment too innocent to harbor anger or
chagrin.

And when Kerns stood up with an unembar
rassed laugh, saying, " I'm going to the office ;
see you this evening ? " Gatewod replied rather
vacantly : " Oh, yes ; I'm dining here. Good-by,
Tommy."

Kerns glanced at his watch, lingering. " Was
there anything you wished to ask me, Jack? " he
inquired guilelessly.

" Ask you? No, I don't think so."

" Oh ; I had an idea you might care to know
where Keen & Co. were to be found."

" That," said Gatewood firmly, " is foolish."

" I'll write the address for you, anyway," re
joined Kerns, scribbling it and handing the card
to his friend.

Then he went down the stairs, several at a time,
11

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

eased in conscience, satisfied that he had done his
duty by a friend he cared enough for to breakfast
with.

" Of course," he ruminated as he crawled into a
hansom and lay back buried in meditation — " of
course there may be nothing in this Keen & Co.
business. But it will stir him up and set him
thinking ; and the longer Keen & Co. take to hunt
up an imaginary lady that doesn't exist, the more
anxious and impatient poor old Jack Gatewood
will become, until he'll catch the fever and go can
tering about with that one fixed idea in his head.
And," added Kerns softly, " no New Yorker in his
right mind can go galloping through these five
boroughs very long before he's roped, tied, and
marked by the ' only girl in the world ' — the only
girl — if you don't care to turn around and look
at another million girls precisely like her. O
Lord ! — precisely like her ! "

Here was a nice exhorter to incite others to
matrimony.

CHAPTER II

MEANWHILE, Gatewood was walking along Fifth
Avenue, more or less soothed by the May sunshine.
First, he went to his hatters, looked at straw hats,
didn't like them, protested, and bought one, wish
ing he had strength of mind enough to wear it
home. But he hadn't. Then he entered the huge
white marble palace of his jeweler, left his watch
to be regulated, caught a glimpse of a girl whose
hair and neck resembled the hair and neck of his
ideal, sidled around until he discovered that she
was chewing gum, and backed off, with a bitter
smile, into the avenue once more.

Every day for years he had had glimpses of
girls whose hair, hands, figures, eyes, hats, car
riage, resembled the features required by his ideal ;
there always was something wrong somewhere.
And, as he strolled moodily, a curious feeling of
despair seized him — something that, even in his
most sentimental moments, even amid the most
unexpected disappointment, he had never before
experienced.

" I do want to love somebody! " he found him-
13

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

self saying half aloud ; " I want to marry ; I — "
He turned to look after three pretty children with
their maids — " I want several like those — several !
— seven — ten — I don't care how many ! I want
a house to worry me, just as Tommy described
it ; I want to see the same girl across the breakfast
table — or she can sip her cocoa in bed if she de
sires " A slow, modest blush stole over his

features; it was one of the nicest things he ever
did. Glancing up, he beheld across the way a
white sign, ornamented with strenuous crimson
lettering :

KEEN & CO.

TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS

The moment he discovered it, he realized he had
been covertly hunting for it ; he also realized that
he was going to climb the stairs. He hadn't quite
decided what he meant to do after that; nor was
his mind clear on the matter when he found him
self opening a door of opaque glass on which was
printed in red:

KEEN & CO.

He was neither embarrassed nor nervous when
he found himself in a big carpeted anteroom
where a negro attendant bowed him to a seat and
14

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

took his card ; and he looked calmly around to see
what was to be seen.

Several people occupied easy chairs in various
parts of the room — an old woman very neatly
dressed, clutching in her withered hand a photo
graph which she studied and studied with tear-
dimmed eyes; a young man wearing last year's
most fashionable styles in everything except his
features: and soap could have aided him there;
two policemen, helmets resting on their knees ; and,
last of all, a rather thin child of twelve, staring
open-mouthed at everybody, a bundle of soiled
clothing under one arm. Through an open door
he saw a dozen young women garbed in black, with
white cuffs and collars, all rattling away steadily
at typewriters. Every now and then, from some
hidden office, a bell rang decisively, and one of the
girls would rise from her machine and pass noise
lessly out of sight to obey the summons. From
time to time, too, the darky servant with marvel
ous manners would usher somebody through the
room where the typewriters were rattling, into the
unseen office. First the old woman went — shakily,
clutching her photograph ; then the thin child with
the bundle, staring at everything; then the two
fat policemen, in portentous single file, helmets in
their white-gloved hands, oiled hair glistening.
15

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Gatewood's turn was approaching; he waited
without any definite emotion, watching newcomers
enter to take the places of those who had been
summoned. He hadn't the slightest idea of what
he was to say; nor did it worry him. A curious
sense of impending good fortune left him pleas
antly tranquil ; he picked up, from the silver tray
on the table at his elbow, one of the firm's business
cards, and scanned it with interest:

KEEN & CO.

TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS

Keen $• Co. are prepared to locate the
whereabouts of anybody on earth. No
charges will be made unless the person
searched for is found.

Blanks on application.

WESTREL KEEN, Manager.

" Mistuh Keen will see you, suh," came a per
suasive voice at his elbow ; and he rose and followed
the softly moving colored servant out of the room,
through a labyrinth of demure young women at
their typewriters, then sharply to the right and
into a big, handsomely furnished office, where a
sleepy-looking elderly gentleman rose from an
armchair and bowed. There could not be the
16

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

slightest doubt that he was a gentleman; every
movement, every sound he uttered, settled the fact.

"Mr. Keen?"

"Mr. Gatewood? " — with a quiet certainty
which had its charm. " This is very good of
you."

Gatewood sat down and looked at his host.
Then he said : " I'm searching for somebody, Mr.
Keen, whom you are not likely to find."

" I doubt it," said Keen pleasantly.

Gatewood smiled. " If," he said, " you will un
dertake to find the person I cannot find, I must
ask you to accept a retainer."

" We don't require retainers," replied Keen.
" Unless we find the person sought for, we make
no charges, Mr. Gatewood."

" I must ask you to do so in my case. It is not
fair that you should undertake it on other terms.
I desire to make a special arrangement with you.
Do you mind? "

"What arrangement had you contemplated?"
inquired Keen, amused.

" Only this : charge me in advance exactly what
you would charge if successful. And, on the
other hand, do not ask me for detailed information
—I mean, do not insist on any information that
I decline to give. Do you mind taking up such
17

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

an extraordinary and unbusinesslike proposition,
Mr. Keen?"

The Tracer of Lost Persons looked up sharply :

" About how much information do you decline
to give, Mr. Gatewood? "

" About enough to incriminate and degrade,"
replied the young man, laughing.

The elderly gentleman sat silent, apparently
buried in meditation. Once or twice his pleasant
steel-gray eyes wandered over Gatewood as an ex
pert, a connoisseur, glances at a picture and as
similates its history, its value, its artistic merit,
its every detail in one practiced glance.

" I think we may take up this matter for you,
Mr. Gatewood," he said, smiling his singularly
agreeable smile.

" But — but you would first desire to know
something about me — would you not? "

Keen looked at him : " You will not mistake me
—you will consider it entirely inoffensive — if I say
that I know something about you, Mr. Gate-
wood? "

" About me? How can you ? Of course, there
is the social register and the club lists and all
that "

"And many, many sources of information which
are necessary in such a business as this, Mr. Gate-
18

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

wood. It is a necessity for us to be almost as well
informed as our clients' own lawyers. I could pay
you no sincerer compliment than to undertake
your case. I am half inclined to do so even with
out a retainer. Mind, I haven't yet said that I
will take it."

" I prefer to reg'ilate any possible indebtedness
in advance," said Gatewood.

" As you wish," replied the older man, smiling.
" In that case, suppose you draw your check " (he
handed Gatewood a fountain pen as the young
man fished a check-book from his pocket) — " your
check for — well, say for $5,000, to the order of
Keen & Co."

Gatewood met his eye without wincing; he was
in for it now; and he was always perfectly game.
He had brought it upon himself; it was his own
proposition. Not that he would have for a mo
ment considered the sum as high — or any sum ex
orbitant — if there had been a chance of success;
one cannot compare and weigh such matters. But
how could there be any chance for success ?

As he slowly smoothed out the check and stub,
pen poised, Keen was saying : " Of course, we
should succeed sooner or later — if we took up your
case. We might succeed to-morrow — to-day.
That would mean a large profit for us. But we
19

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

might not succeed to-day, or next month, or even
next year. That would leave us little or no profit ;
and, as it is our custom to go on until we do suc
ceed, no matter how long it may require, you see,
Mr. Gatewood, I should be taking all sorts of
chances. It might even cost us double your re
tainer before we found her "

" Her ? How did — why do you say ' her ' ? "

" Am I wrong? " asked Keen, smiling.

" No — you are right."

The Tracer of Lost Persons sank into abstrac
tion again. Gatewood waited, hoping that his
case might be declined, yet ready to face any music
started at his own request.

" She is young," mused Keen aloud, " very
beautiful and accomplished. Is she wealthy ? "
He looked up mildly.

Gatewood said : " I don't know — the truth is I
don't care " And stopped.

"O-ho!" mused Keen slowly. " I— think— I
understand. Am I wrong, Mr. Gatewood, in sur
mising that this young lady whom you seek is, in
your eyes, very — I may say ideally gifted? "

" She is my ideal," replied the young man,
coloring.

" Exactly. And — her general allure? "

"Charming!"

20

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Exactly ; but to be a trifle more precise — if
you could give me a sketch, an idea, a mere outline
delicately tinted, now. Is she more blond than
brunette?"

« Yes — but her eyes are brown. I — I insist on
that."

" Why should you not ? You know her ; I
don't," said Keen, laughing. " I merely wished to
form a mental picture. . . . You say her hair is

-is-

" It's full of sunny color ; that's all I can say."

" Exactly — I see. A rare and lovely combina
tion with brown eyes and creamy skin, Mr. Gate-
wood. I fancy she might be, perhaps, an inch
or two under your height? "

" Just about that. Her hands should be — are
beautiful "

" Exactly. The ensemble is most vividly por
trayed, Mr. Gatewood; and — you have intimated
that her lack of fortune — er — we might almost
say her pecuniary distress — is more than compen
sated for by her accomplishments, character, and
very unusual beauty. . . . Did I so understand
you, Mr. Gatewood?"

" That's what I meant, anyhow," he said,
flushing up.

"You did mean it?"

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"I did: I do."

" Then we take your case, Mr. Gatewood. . . .
No haste about the check, my dear sir — pray con
sider us at your service."

But Gatewood doggedly filled in the check and
handed it to the Tracer of Lost Persons.

" I wish you happiness," said the older man in
a low voice. " The lady you describe exists ; it is
for us to discover her."

"Thank you," stammered Gatewood, astounded.

Keen touched an electric button; a moment
later a young girl entered the room.

" Miss Southerland, Mr. Gatewood. Will you
be kind enough to take Mr. Gatewood's dictation
in Room 19?"

For a second Gatewood stared — as though in
the young girl before him the ghost of his ideal
had risen to confront him — only for a second;
then he bowed, matching her perfect acknowledg
ment of his presence by a bearing and courtesy
which must have been inbred to be so faultless.

And he followed her to Room 19.

What had Keen meant by saying, " The lady
you describe exists ! " Did this remarkable elderly
gentleman suspect that it was to be a hunt for an
ideal? Had he deliberately entered into such a
bargain ? Impossible !

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

His disturbed thoughts reverted to the terms of
the bargain, the entire enterprise, the figures on
his check. His own amazing imbecility appalled
him. What idiocy ! What sudden madness had
seized him to entangle himself in such unheard-of
negotiations! True, he had played bridge until
dawn the night before, but, on awaking, he had
discovered no perceptible hold-over. It must
have been sheer weakness of intellect that per
mitted him to be dominated by the suggestions
of Kerns. And now the game was on: the jack
declared, cards dealt, and his ante was up. Had
he openers?

Room 19, duly labeled with its number on the
opaque glass door, contained a desk, a table and
typewriter, several comfortable chairs, and a win
dow opening on Fifth Avenue, through which the
eastern sun poured a stream of glory, washing
curtain, walls, and ceiling with palest gold.

And all this time, preoccupied with new impres
sions and his own growing chagrin, he watched the
girl who conducted him with all the unconscious
assurance and grace of a young chatelaine pass
ing through her own domain under escort of a
distinguished guest.

When they had entered Room 19, she half
turned, but he forestalled her and closed the door,
3 23

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

and she passed before him with a perceptible in
clination of her finely modeled head, seating her
self at the desk by the open window. He took an
armchair at her elbow and removed his gloves,
looking at her expectantly.

CHAPTER III

" THIS is a list of particular and general ques
tions for you to answer, Mr. Gatewood," she said,
handing him a long slip of printed matter. ' The
replies to such questions as you are able or willing
to answer you may dictate to me." The beauty
of her modulated voice was scarcely a surprise —
no woman who moved and carried herself as did
this tall young girl in black and white could
reasonably be expected to speak with less distinc
tion — yet the charm of her voice, from the mo
ment her lips unclosed, so engrossed him that the
purport of her speech escaped him.

"Would you mind saying it once more?" he
asked.

She did so; he attempted to concentrate his
attention, and succeeded sufficiently to look as
though some vestige of intellect remained in him.
He saw her pick up a pad and pencil ; the contour
and grace of two deliciously fashioned hands ar
rested his mental process once more.

" I beg your pardon," he said hastily ; " what
were you saying, Miss Southerland? "
25

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Nothing, Mr. Gatewood. I did not speak."
And he realized, hazily, that she had not spoken
— that it was the subtle eloquence of her youth
and loveliness that had appealed like a sudden
voice — a sound faintly exquisite echoing his own
thought of her.

Troubled, he looked at the slip of paper in his
hand ; it was headed :

SPECIAL DESCRIPTION BLANK
(Form K)

And he read it as carefully as he was able to — the
curious little clamor of his pulses, the dazed sense
of elation, almost of expectation, distracting his
attention all the time.

" I wish you would read it to me," he said ;
" that would give me time to think up answers."

" If you wish," she assented pleasantly, swing
ing around toward him in her desk chair. Then
she crossed one knee over the other to support the
pad, and, bending above it, lifted her brown eyes.
She could have done nothing in the world more
distracting at that moment.

" What is the sex of the person you desire to
find, Mr. Gatewood?"

" Her sex? I — well, I fancy it is feminine."

She wrote after " Sex " the words " She is
26

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

probably feminine " ; looked at him absently,
glanced at what she had written, flushed a little,
rubbed out the " she is probably," wondering why
a moment's mental wandering should have com
mitted her to absurdity.

" Married? " she asked with emphasis.

" No," he replied, startled ; then, vexed, " I beg
your pardon — you mean to ask if she is married ! "

" Oh, I didn't mean you, Mr. Gatewood ; it's the
next question, you see " — she held out the blank
toward him. " Is the person you are looking for
married ? "

" Oh, no ; she isn't married, either — at least— -
I trust — not — because if she is I don't want to find
her ! " he ended, entangled in an explanation which
threatened to involve him deeper than he desired.
And, looking up, he saw the beautiful brown eyes
regarding him steadily. They reverted to the
paper at once, and the white fingers sent the pencil
flying.

" He trusts that she is unmarried, but if she is
(underlined) married he doesn't want to find her,"
she wrote.

" That," she explained, " goes under the head
of ' General Remarks ' at the bottom of the page "
— she held it out, pointing with her pencil. He
nodded, staring at her slender hand.
27

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Age?" she continued, setting the pad firmly
on her rounded, yielding knee and looking up at
him.

"Age? Well, I — as a matter of fact, I could
only venture a surmise. You know," he said ear
nestly, " how difficult it is to guess ages, don't
you, Miss Southerland ? "

" How old do you think she is ? Could you not
hazard a guess — judging, say, from her appear
ance ? "

" I have no data — no experience to guide me."
He was becoming involved again. " Would you,
for practice, permit me first to guess your age,
Miss Southerland?"

" Why — yes — if you think that might help you
to guess hers."

So he leaned back in his armchair and consid
ered her a very long time — having a respectable
excuse to do so. Twenty times he forgot he was
looking at her for any purpose except that of dis
interested delight, and twenty times he remem
bered with a guilty wince that it was a matter of
business.

" Perhaps I had better tell you," she sug
gested, her color rising a little under his scru
tiny.

" Is it eighteen? Just her age! "
28

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Twenty-one, Mr. Gatewood — and you said
you didn't know her age."

" I have just remembered that I thought it
might be eighteen; but I dare say I was shy three
years in her case, too. You may put it down at
twenty-one."

For the slightest fraction of a second the brown
eyes rested on his, the pencil hovered in hesitation.
Then the eyes fell, and the moving fingers wrote.

"Did you write 'twenty-one'?" he inquired
carelessly.

" I did not, Mr. Gatewood."

"What did you write?"

"I wrote: 'He doesn't appear to know much
about her age.' '

" But I do know "

" You said " They looked at one another

earnestly.

" The next question," she continued with com
posure, " is : ' Date and place of birth? ' Can you
answer any part of that question? "

"I trust I may be able to — some day. . . .
What are you writing? "

"I'm writing: 'He trusts he may be able to,
some day.' Wasn't that what you said? "

"Yes, I did say that. I— I'm not perfectly
sure what I meant by it."
29

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

She passed to the next question :

"Height?"

" About five feet six," he said, fascinated gaze
on her.

"Hair?"

" More gold than brown — full of — er —
gleams " She looked up quickly; his eyes re
verted to the window rather suddenly. He had
been looking at her hair.

" Complexion? " she continued after a shade of
hesitation.

" It's a sort of delicious mixture — bisque, tinted

with a pinkish bloom — ivory and rose " He

was explaining volubly, when she began to shake
her head, timing each shake to his words.

" Really, Mr. Gatewood, I think you are hope
lessly vague on that point — unless you desire to
convey the impression that she is speckled."

" Speckled ! " he repeated, horrified. " Why, I
am describing a woman who is my ideal of
beauty "

But she had already gone to the next question :

"Teeth?"

" P-p-perf ect p-p-pearls ! " he stammered. The
laughing red mouth closed like a flower at dusk,
veiling the sparkle of her teeth.

Was he trying to be impertinent? Was he de-
30

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

liberately describing her? He did not look like
that sort of man ; yet why was he watching her so
closely, so curiously at every question? Why did
he look at her teeth when she laughed?

" Eyes ? " Her own dared him to continue
what, coincidence or not, was plainly a description
of herself.

" B-b-b " He grew suddenly timorous,

hesitating, pretending to a perplexity which
was really a healthy scare. For she was frown
ing.

" Curious I can't think of the color of her
eyes," he said; " is— isn't it?"

She coldly inspected her pad and made a cor
rection; but all she did was to rub out a comma
and put another in its place. Meanwhile, Gate-
wood, chin in his hand, sat buried in profound
thought. " Were they blue?" he murmured to
himself aloud, " or were they brown? Blue begins
with a b and brown begins with a b. I'm con
vinced that her eyes began with a b. They were
not, therefore, gray or green, because," he added
in a burst of confidence, " it is utterly impossible
to spell gray or green with a b!"

Miss Southerland looked slightly astonished.

" All you can recollect, then, is that the color
of her eyes began with the letter b? "
31

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" That is absolutely all I can remember ; but I
think they were — brown."

" If they were brown they must be brown now,"
she observed, looking out of the window.

" That's true ! Isn't it curious I never thought
of that? What are you writing? "

" Brown," she said, so briefly that it sounded
something like a snub.

" Mouth ? " inquired the girl, turning a new
leaf on her pad.

" Perfect. Write it : there is no other term fit
to describe its color, shape, its sensitive beauty,
its What did you write just then? "

" I wrote, ' Mouth, ordinary.' "

" I don't want you to ! I want "

" Really, Mr. Gatewood, a rhapsody on a girl's
mouth is proper in poetry, but scarcely germane
to the record of a purely business transaction.
Please answer the next question tersely, if you
don't mind: ' Figure? ' "

" Oh, I do mind ! I can't ! Any poem is much
too brief to describe her figure "

" Shall we say ' Perfect '? " asked the girl, rais
ing her brown eyes in a glimmering transition
from vexation to amusement. For, after all, it
could be only a coincidence that this young man
should be describing features peculiar to herself.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Couldn't you write, ' Venus-of-Milo-like ' ? "
he inquired. " That is laconic."

" I could — if it's true. But if you mean it for
praise — I — don't think any modern woman would
be flattered."

" I always supposed that she of Milo had an
ideal figure," he said, perplexed.

She wrote, " A good figure." Then, propping
her rounded chin on one lovely white hand, she
glanced at the next question :

"Hands?"

" White, beautiful, rose-tipped, slender yet
softly and firmly rounded "

" How can they be soft and firm, too, Mr. Gate-
wood? " she protested; then, surprising his guilty
eyes fixed on her hands, hastily dropped them and
sat up straight, level-browed, cold as marble.
Was he deliberately being rude to her?

33

CHAPTER IV

As a matter of fact, he was not. Too poor in
imagination to invent, on the spur of the moment,
charms and qualities suited to his ideal, he had, at
first unconsciously, taken as a model the girl be
fore him ; quite unconsciously and innocently at
first — then furtively, and with a dawning percep
tion of the almost flawless beauty he was secretly
plagiarizing. Aware, now, that something had
annoyed her ; aware, too, at the same moment that
there appeared to be nothing lacking in her to
satisfy his imagination of the ideal, he began to
turn redder than he had ever turned in all his life.

Several minutes of sixty seconds each ensued
before he ventured to stir a finger. And it was
only when she bent again very gravely over her
pad that he cautiously eased a cramped muscle or
two, and drew a breath — a long, noiseless, deep
and timid respiration. He realized the enormity
of what he had been doing — how close he had come
to giving unpardonable offense by drawing a per
fect portrait of her as the person he desired to
find through the good offices of Keen & Co.
34

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

But there was no such person — unless she had
a double: for what more could a man desire than
the ideal traits he had been able to describe only
by using her as his inspiration.

When he ventured to look at her, one glance was
enough to convince him that she, too, had noticed
the parallel — had been forced to recognize her own
features in the portrait he had constructed of an
ideal. And she had caught him in absent-minded
contemplation of the hands he had been describ
ing. He knew that his face was the face of a
guilty man.

" What is the next question ? " he stammered,
eager to answer it in a manner calculated to allay
her suspicions.

" The next question ? " She glanced at the list,
then with a voice of velvet which belied the eyes,
clear as frosty brown pools in November : " The
next question requires a description of her feet."

" Feet ! Oh — they — they're rather large —
— why, her feet are enormous, I believe "

She looked at him as though stunned ; suddenly
a flood of pink spread, wave on wave, from the
white nape of her neck to her hair; she bent low
over her pad and wrote something, remaining in
that attitude until her face cooled.

" Somehow or other I've done it again ! " he
35

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

thought, horrified. " The best thing I can do is
to end it and go home."

In his distress he began to hedge, saying : " Of
course, she is rather tall and her feet are in some
sort of proportion — in fact, they are perfectly
symmetrical feet "

Never in his life had he encountered a pair of
such angrily beautiful eyes. Speech stopped with
a dry gulp.

" We now come to ' General Remarks,' " she
said in a voice made absolutely steady and emo
tionless. " Have you any remarks of that de
scription to offer, Mr. Gatewood? "

" I'm willing to make remarks," he said, " if I
only knew what you wished me to say."

She mused, eyes on the sunny window, then
looked up. " Where did you last see her? "

" Near Fifth Avenue."

"And what street?"

He named the street.

" Near here ? "

" Rather," he said timidly.

She ruffled the edges of her pad, wrote some
thing and erased it, bit her scarlet upper lip, and
frowned.

" Out of doors, of course? "

" No ; indoors," he admitted furtively.
36

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

She looked up with a movement almost nervous.

" Do you dare — I mean, care — to be more
concise? "

" I would rather not," he replied in a voice from
which he hoped he had expelled the tremors of
alarm.

" As you please, Mr. Gatewood. And would
you care to answer any of these other questions:
Who and what are or were her parents? Give all
particulars concerning all her relatives. Is she
employed or not? What are her social, financial,
and general circumstances? Her character, per
sonal traits, aims, interests, desires? Has she any
vices? Any virtues? Talents? Ambitions? Ca
prices? Fads? Are you in love with her?
Is "

" Yes," he said, " I am."

" Is she in love with you? "

" No ; she hates me — I'm afraid."

" Is she in love with anybody ? "

" That is a very difficult "

The girl wrote : " He doesn't know," with a sat
isfaction apparently causeless.

" Is she a relative of yours, Mr. Gatewood? "
very sweetly.

" No, Miss Southerland," very positively.

" You — you desire to marry her — you say ? "
37

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I do. But I didn't say it."

She was silent ; then :

" What is her name ? " in a low voice which
started several agreeable thrills chasing one an
other over him.

" I — I decline to answer," he stammered.

" On what grounds, Mr. Gatewood? "

He looked her full in the eyes ; suddenly he bent
forward and gazed at the printed paper from
which she had been apparently reading.

" Why, all those questions you are scaring me
with are not there ! " he exclaimed indignantly.
" You are making them up ? "

" I — I know, but " — she was flushing furiously
— " but they are on the other forms — some of
them. Can't you see you are answering 6 Form
K '? That is a special form "

" But why do you ask me questions that are not
on Form K?"

" Because it is my duty to do all I can to secure
evidence which may lead to the discovery of the
person you desire to find. I — I assure you, Mr.
Gatewood, this duty is not — not always agreeable
— and some people make it harder still."

Gatewood looked out of the window. Various
emotions — among them shame, mortification, cha
grin — pervaded him, and chased each other along

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

his nervous system, coloring his neck and ears a
fiery red for the enlightenment of any observer.

"I — I did not mean to offend you," said the
girl in a low voice — such a gently regretful voice
that Gatewood swung around in his chair.

" There is nothing I would not be glad to tell
you about the woman I have fallen in love with,"
he said. " She is overwhelmingly lovely ; and —
when I dare — I will tell you her name and where
I first saw her — and where I saw her last — if you
desire. Shall I?"

" It would be advisable. When will you do
this?"

" When I dare."

" You — you don't dare — now ? "

" No . . . not now."

She absently wrote on her pad : " He doesn't
dare tell me now." Then, with head still bent,
she lifted her mischief -making, trouble-breeding
brown eyes to his once more.

" I am to come here, of course, to consult you? "
he asked dizzily.

" Mr. Keen will receive you "

" He may be busy."

" He may be," she repeated dreamily.

« So— I'll ask for you."

" We could write you, Mr. Gatewood."
4 39

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

He said hastily : " It's no trouble for me to
come ; I walk every morning."

" But there would be no use, I think, in your
coming very soon. All I — all Mr. Keen could do

for a while would be to report progress "

4 That is all I dare look for : progress — for the
present."

During the time that he remained — which was
not very long — neither of them spoke until he
arose to take his departure.

" Good-by, Miss Southerland. I hope you may
find the person I have been searching for."

" Good-by, Mr. Gatewood. ... I hope we shall ;
. . . but I— don't— know."

And, as a matter of fact, she did not know ; she
was rather excited over nothing, apparently ; and
also somewhat preoccupied with several rather dis
turbing emotions the species of which she was in
terested in determining. But to label and cata
logue each of these emotions separately required
privacy and leisure to think — and she also wished
to look very earnestly at the reflection of her own
face in the mirror of her own chamber. For it is
a trifle exciting — though but an innocent coinci
dence — to be compared, feature by feature, to a
young man's ideal. As far as that went, she ex
celled it, too ; and, as she stood by the desk, alone,
40

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

gathering up her notes, she suddenly bent over
and lifted the hem of her gown a trifle — sufficient
to reassure herself that the dainty pair of shoes
she wore, would have baffled the efforts of any
Venus ever sculptured. And she was perfectly
right.

" Of course," she thought to herself, " his ideal
runaway hasn't enormous feet. He, too, must
have been struck with the similarity between me
and his ideal, and when he realized that I also
noticed it, he was frightened by my frown into say
ing that her feet were enormous. How silly ! . . .
For I didn't mean to frighten him. . . . He
frightened me — once or twice — I mean he irri
tated me — no, interested me, is what I do mean.
. . . Heigho ! I wonder why she ran away ? I
wonder why he can't find her? . . . It's — it's silly
to run away from a man like that. . . . Heigho!
. . . She doesn't deserve to be found; There is
nothing to be afraid of — nothing to alarm any
body in a man like that."

So she gathered up her notes and walked slowly
out and across to the private office of the Tracer
of Lost Persons.

" Come in," said the Tracer when she knocked.
He was using the telephone; she seated herself
rather listlessly beside the window, where spring
41

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

sunshine lay in gilded patches on the rug and
spring breezes stirred the curtains. She was a
little tired, but there seemed to be no good reason
why. Yet, with the soft wind blowing on her
cheek, the languor grew ; she rested her face on one
closed hand, shutting her eyes.

When they opened again it was to meet the
fixed gaze of Mr. Keen.

" Oh — I beg your pardon ! "

'There is no need of it, child. Be seated.
Never mind that report just now." He paced the
length of the room once or twice, hands clasped
behind him ; then, halting to confront her :

''What sort of a man is this young Gate-
wood? "

"What sort, Mr. Keen? Why— I think he is
the — the sort — that "

"I see that you don't think much of him,"
said Keen, laughing.

" Oh, indeed I did not mean that at all ; I mean
that he appeared to be — to be "

"Rather a cad?"

" Why, no ! " she said, flushing up. " He is
absolutely well-bred, Mr. Keen."

6 You received no unpleasant impression of
him?"

" On the contrary ! " she said rather warmly —
42

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

for it hurt her sense of justice that Keen should
so misjudge even a stranger in whom she had no
personal interest.

" You think he looks like an honest man? "
"Honest?" She was rosy with annoyance.
" Have you any idea that he is dishonest? "
"Have you?"

" Not the slightest," she said with emphasis.
" Suppose a man should set us hunting for a
person who does not exist— on our terms, which
are no payment unless successful? Would that
be honest? " asked Keen gravely.
"Did— did he do that?"
" No, child."
" I knew he couldn't do such a thing ! "

" No, he er — couldn't, because I wouldn't

allow it— not that he tried to! " added Keen has
tily as the indignant brown eyes sparkled omi
nously. " Really, Miss Southerland, he must be
all you say he is, for he has a stanch champion
to vouch for him."

"All I say he is? I haven't said anything
about him ! "

Mr. Keen nodded. " Exactly. Let us drop him
for a moment. . . . Are you perfectly well, Miss
Southerland?"
" Why, yes."

43

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I'm glad of it. You are a trifle pale ; you
seem to be a little languid. . . . When do you
take your vacation ? "

" You suggested May, I believe," she said wist
fully.

The Tracer leaned back in his chair, joining the
tips of his fingers reflectively.

" Miss Southerland," he said, " you have been
with us a year. I thought it might interest you
to know that I am exceedingly pleased with
you."

She colored charmingly.

"But," he added, "I'm terribly afraid we're
going to lose you."

"Why?" she asked, startled.

" However," he continued, ignoring her half-
frightened question with a smile, " I am going to
promote you — for faithful and efficient service."

"O-h!"

" With an agreeable increase of salary, and new
duties which will take you into the open air. . . .
You ride?"

" I— I used to before "

" Exactly ; before you were obliged to earn

your living. Please have yourself measured for

habit and boots this afternoon. I shall arrange

for horse, saddle, and groom. You will spend

44

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

most of your time riding in the Park — for the
present."

" But — Mr. Keen — am I to be one of your
agents — a sort of detective? "

Keen regarded her absently, then crossed one
leg over the other.

" Read me your notes," he said with a smile.

She read them, folded them, and he took them
from her, thoughtfully regarding her.

" Did you know that your mother and I were
children together ? " he asked.

" No ! " She stared. " Is that why you sent
for me that day at the school of stenography ? "

" That is why. . . . When I learned that my
playmate — your mother — was dead, is it not rea
sonable to suppose that I should wish her daughter
to have a chance ? "

Miss Southerland looked at him steadily.

" She was like you — when she married. ... I
never married. . . . Do you wonder that I sent
for you, child ? "

Nothing but the clock ticking there in the
sunny room, and an old man staring into two
dimmed brown eyes, and the little breezes at the
open window whispering of summers past.

" This young man, Gatewood," said the Tracer,
clearing his voice of its hoarseness — " this young
45

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

man ought to be all right, if I did not misjudge
his father — years ago, child, years ago. And he

is all right " He half turned toward a big

letter-file; "his record is clean, so far. The
trouble with him is idleness. He ought to marry."

" Isn't he trying to? " she asked.

" It looks like it. Miss Southerland, we must
find this woman ! "

4 Yes, but I don't see how you are going to —
on such slight information "

"Information! Child, I have all I want —
all I could desire." He laughed, passing his
hands over his gray hair. "We are going to
find the girl he is in love with before the week
ends ! "

" Do you really think so? " she exclaimed.

;< Yes. But you must do a great deal in this
case."

" I ? "

" feictly."

" And — and what am I to do? "

" Ride in the Park, child ! And if you see Mr.
Gatewood, don't you dare take your eyes off him
for one moment. Watch him; observe everything
he does. If he should recognize you and speak to
you, be as amiable to him as though it were not by
my orders."

46

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Then — then I am to be a detective!" she
faltered.

The Tracer did not appear to hear her. He
took up the notes, turned to the telephone, and
began to send out a general alarm, reading the
description of the person whom Gatewood had
described. The vast, intricate and delicate ma
chinery under his control was being set in motion
all over the Union.

" Not that I expect to find her outside the bor
ough of Manhattan," he said, smiling, as he hung
up the receiver and turned to her; "but it's as
well to know how many types of that species exist
in this Republic, and who they are — in case any
other young man comes here raving of brown eyes
and 6 gleams ' in the hair."

Miss Southerland, to her own intense consterna
tion, blushed.

" I think you had better order that habit at
once," said the Tracer carelessly.

"Tell me, Mr. Keen," she asked tremulously,
" am I to spy upon Mr. Gatewood ? And report
to you? . . . For I simply cannot bear to do

" Child, you need report nothing unless you de
sire to. And when there is something to report,
it will be about the woman I am searching for.
47

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Don't you understand? I have already located
her. You will find her in the Park. And when
you are sure she is the right one— and if you care
to report it to me — I shall be ready to listen. . . .
I am always ready to listen to you."

" But — I warn you, Mr. Keen, that I have per
fect faith in the honor of Mr. Gatewood. I know
that I could have nothing unworthy to report."

" I am sure of it," said the Tracer of Lost Per
sons, studying her with eyes that were not quite
clear. " Now, I think you had better order that
habit. . . . Your mother sat her saddle perfectly.
. . . We rode very often — my lost playmate
and I."

He turned, hands clasped behind his back, ab
sently pacing the room, backward, forward, there
in the spring sunshine. Nor did he notice her lin
gering, nor mark her as she stole from the room,
brown eyes saddened and thoughtful, wondering,
too, that there should be in the world so much
room for sorrow.

48

I am sure of it/ said the Tracer of Lost Persons."

CHAPTER V

GATEWOOD, burdened with restlessness and
gnawed by curiosity, consumed a week in prowl
ing about the edifice where Keen & Co. carried on
an interesting profession.

His first visit resulted merely in a brief inter
view with Mr. Keen, who smilingly reported
progress and suavely bowed him out. He looked
about for Miss Southerland as he was leaving, but
did not see her.

On his second visit he mustered the adequate
courage to ask for her, and experienced a curi
ously sickly sensation when informed that Miss
Southerland was no longer employed in the bureau
of statistics, having been promoted to an outside
position of great responsibility. His third visit
proved anything but satisfactory. He sidled and
side-stepped for ten minutes before he dared ask
Mr. Keen where Miss Southerland had gone. And
when the Tracer replied that, considering the
business he had undertaken for Mr. Gatewood, he
really could not see why Mr. Gatewood should in-
49

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

terest himself concerning the whereabouts of Miss
Southerland, the young man had nothing to say,
and escaped as soon as possible, enraged at him
self, at Mr. Keen, and vaguely holding the entire
world guilty of conspiracy.

He had no definite idea of what he wanted, ex
cept that his desire to see Miss Southerland again
seemed out of all proportion to any reasonable
motive for seeing her. Occasional fits of disgust
with himself for what he had done were varied with
moody hours of speculation. Suppose Mr. Keen
did find his ideal? What of it? He no longer
wanted to see her. He had no use for her. The
savor of the enterprise had gone stale in his
mouth; he was by turns worried, restless, melan
choly, sulky, uneasy. A vast emptiness pervaded
his life. He smoked more and more and ate less
and less. He even disliked to see others eat, par
ticularly Kerns.

And one exquisite May morning he came down
to breakfast and found the unspeakable Kerns im
mersed in grapefruit, calm, well balanced, and
bland.

"How-de-dee, dear friend?" said that gen
tleman affably. "Any news from Cupid this
beautiful May morning? "

" No ; and I don't want any," returned Gate-
50

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

wood, sorting his mail with a scowl and waving
away his fruit.

" Tut, tut ! Lovers must be patient. Dearie
will be found some day "

" Some day," snarled Gatewood, " I shall de
stroy you, Tommy."

" Naughty ! Naughty ! " reflected Kerns, pen
sively assaulting the breakfast food. " Lovey
must TIO £ worry ; Dovey shall be found, and all will
be joy and gingerbread. ... If you throw that
orange I'll run screaming to the governors.
Aren't you ashamed — just because you're in a love
tantrum ! "

" One more word and you get it ! "

" May I sing as I trifle with this frugal fare,
dear friend? My heart is so happy that I should
love to warble a few wild notes "

He paused to watch his badgered victim dispose
of a Martini.

" I wonder," he mused, " if you'd like me to tell
you what a cocktail before breakfast does to the
lining of your stomach? Would you? "

" No. I suppose it's what the laundress does to
my linen. What do I care? "

" Don't be a short sport, Jack."

" Well, I don't care for the game you put me
up against. Do you know what has happened? "
51

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"I really don't, dear friend. The Tracer of
Lost Persons has not found her — has he? "

" He says he has," retorted Gatewood sullenly,
pulling a crumpled telegram from his pocket and
casting it upon the table. " I don't want to see
her; I'm not interested. I never saw but one girl
in my life who interested me in the slightest ; and
she's employed to help in this ridiculous search."

Kerns, meanwhile, had smoothed out the tele
gram and was intently perusing it:

"John Gatewood, Lenox Club, Fifth Avenue:

" Person probably discovered. Call here as soon as
possible. W. KEEN."

" What do you make of that ? " demanded Gate-
wood hoarsely.

" Make of it? Why, it's true enough, I fancy.
Go and see, and if it's she, be hers ! "

" I won't ! I don't want to see any ideal ! I
don't want to marry. Why do you try to make
me marry somebody ? "

" Because it's good for you, dear friend.
Otherwise you'll go to the doggy-dogs. You
don't realize how much worry you are to me."

" Confound it! Why don't you marry? Why

didn't I ask you that when you put me up to all

this foolishness ? What right have you

52

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Tut, friend ! 7 know there's no woman alive
fit to wed me and spend her life in stealing kisses
from me. / have no ideal. You have an ideal."

"I haven't!"

" Oh, yes, dear friend, there's a stub in your
check book to prove it. You simply bet $5,000
that your ideal existed. You've won. Go and be
her joy and sunshine."

" I'll put an end to this whole business," said
Gatewood wrathf ully, " and I'll do it now ! "

" Bet you that you're engaged within the
week ! " said Kerns with a placid smile.

The other swung around savagely : " What will
you bet, Tommy? You may have what odds you
please. I'll make you sit up for this."

" I'll bet you," answered Kerns, deliberately,
" an entire silver dinner service against a saddle
horse for the bride."

"That's a fool bet!" snapped Gatewood.
" What do you mean ? "

" Oh, if you don't care to "

" What do I want of a silver service? But, all
right ; I'll bet you anything."

" She'll want it," replied Kerns significantly,
booking the bet. " I may as well canter out to
Tiffany's this morning, I fancy. . . . Where are
you going, Jack? "

53

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" To see Keen and confess what an ass I've
been ! " returned Gatewood sullenly, striding
across the breakfast room to take his hat and
gloves from the rack. And out he went, mad all
over.

On his way up the avenue he attempted to
formulate the humiliating confession which al
ready he shrank from. But it had to be done. He
simply could not stand the prospect of being no
tified month after month that a lady would be on
view somewhere. It was like going for a fitting;
it was horrible. Besides, what use was it ? Within
a week or two an enormous and utterly inexplicable
emptiness had yawned before him, revealing life
as a hollow delusion. He no longer cared.

Immersed in bitter reflection, he climbed the
familiar stairway and sent his card to Mr. Keen,
and in due time he was ushered into the presence
of the Tracer of Lost Persons.

" Mr. Keen," he began, with a headlong desire
to get it over and be done with it, " I may as well
tell you how impossible it is for you, or anybody,
to find that person I described "

Mr. Keen raised an expostulatory hand, smiling
indulgence.

" It is more than possible, Mr. Gatewood, more
than probable; it is almost an accomplished fact.
54

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

In other words, I think I may venture to congratu
late you and say that she is found."

" Now, how can she be found, when there
isn't- "

" Mr. Gatewood, the magician will always wave
his magic wand for you and show you his miracles
for the price of admission. But for that price he
does not show you how he works his miracles,"
said Keen, laughing.

" But I ought to tell you," persisted Gatewood,
" that it is utterly impossible you should find the
person I wished to discover, because she "

" I can only prove that you are wrong," smiled
Keen, rising from his easy chair.

" Mr. Keen," said the young man earnestly, " I
have been more or less of a chump at times. One
of those times was when I came here on this er
rand. All I desire, now, is to let the matter rest
as it is. I am satisfied, and you have lost nothing.
Nor have you found anything or anybody. You
think you have, but you haven't. I do not wish
you to continue the search, or to send me any fur
ther reports. I want to forget the whole miserable
matter — to be free — to feel myself freed from any
obligations to that irritating person I asked you
to find."

The Tracer regarded him very gravely.
5 55

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Is that your wish, Mr. Gatewood? I can
scarcely credit it."

" It is. I've been a fool ; I simply want to stop
being one if anybody will permit it."

" And you decline to attempt to identify the
very beautiful person we have discovered to be the
individual for whom you asked us to search? "

" I do. She may be beautiful ; but I know well
enough she can't compare with — some one."

" I am sorry," said Keen thoughtfully. " We
take so much pride in these matters. When one
of my agents discovered where this person was, I
was rather — happy; for I have taken a peculiar
personal interest in your case. However "

" Mr. Keen," said Gatewood, " if you could un
derstand how ashamed and mortified I am at my
own conduct "

Keen gazed pensively out of the window. " I
also am sorry; Miss Southerland was to have re
ceived a handsome bonus for her discovery "

"Miss S-S-S-S-outherland!"

" .Exactly ; without quite so many *S"s," said
Keen, smiling.

"Did she discover that — that person?" ex
claimed the young man, startled.

" She thinks she has. I am not sure she is cor
rect ; but I am absolutely certain that Miss South-
56

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

erland could eventually discover the person you
were in search o£. It seems a little hard on her—
just on the eve of success — to lose. But that can't
be helped now."

Gatewood, more excited and uncomfortable than
he had ever been in all his life, watched Keen
intently.

" Too bad, too bad," muttered the Tracer to
himself. "The child needs the encouragement.
It meant a thousand dollars to her— He

shrugged his shoulders, looked up, and, as though
rather surprised to see Gatewood still there, smiled
an impersonal smile and offered his hand in adieu.
Gatewood winced.

" Could I — I see Miss Southerland? " he asked.
" I am afraid not. She is at this moment fol
lowing my instructions to — but that cannot in
terest you now "

" Yes, it does ! — if you don't mind. Where is
she? I — I'll take a look at the person she discov
ered ; I will, really."

"Why, it's only this: I suspected that you
might identify a person whom I had reason to
believe was to be found every morning riding in
the Park. So Miss Southerland has been riding
there every day. Yesterday she came here,

greatly excited "

57

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Yes — yes — go on ! "

Keen gazed dreamily at the sunny window.
" She thought she had found your — er — the per
son. So I said you would meet her on the bridle

path, near — but that's of no interest now "

" Near where? " demanded Gatewood, suppress
ing inexplicable excitement. And as Keen said
nothing: "I'll go; I want to go, I really do!
Can't — can't a fellow change his mind? Oh, I
know you think I'm a lunatic, and there's plenty
of reason, too ! "

Keen studied him calmly. " Yes, plenty of rea
son, plenty of reason, Mr. Gatewood. But do you
suppose you are the only one? I know another
who was perfectly sane two weeks ago."

The young man waited impatiently ; the Tracer
paced the room, gray head bent, delicate, wrinkled
hands clasped loosely behind his bent back.

" You have horses at the Whip and Spur Club,"
he said abruptly. " Suppose you ride out and see
how close Miss Southerland has come to solving
our problem."

Gatewood seized the offered hand and wrung it
with a fervor out of all reason ; and it is curious
that the Tracer of Lost Persons did not appear to
be astonished.

" You're rather impetuous — like your father,"
58

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

he said slowly, "I knew him; so I've ventured
to trust his son — even when I heard how aimlessly
he was living his life. Mr. Gatewood! May I
ask you something — as an old friend of your
father?"

The young man nodded, subdued, perplexed,
scarcely understanding.

" It's only this : If you do find the woman you
could love — in the Park — to-day — come back to
me some day and let me tell you all those foolish,
trite, tiresome things that I should have told a
son of mine. I am so old that you will not take
Offense — yOU will not mind listening to me, or for
getting the dull, prosy things I say about the
curse of idleness, and the habits of cynical think
ing, and the perils of vacant-minded indulgence.
You will forgive me — and you will forget me.
That will be as it should be. Good-by."

Gatewood, sobered, surprised, descended the
stairs and hailed a hansom.

59

CHAPTER VI

ALL the way to the Whip and Spur Club he
sat buried in a reverie from which, at intervals, he
started, aroused by the heavy, expectant beating
of his own pulses. But what did he expect, in
Heaven's name? Not the discovery of a woman
who had never existed. Yet his excitement and
impatience grew as he watched the saddling of his
horse; and when at length he rode out into the
sunshine and cantered through the Park entrance,
his sense of impending events and his expectancy
amounted to a fever which colored his face at
tractively.

He saw her almost immediately. Her horse was
walking slowly in the dappled shadows of the
new foliage; she, listless in her saddle, sometimes
watching the throngs of riders passing, at mo
ments turning to gaze into the woodland vistas
where, over the thickets of flowering shrubbery,
orioles and robins sped flashing on tinted wings
from shadow to sun, from sun to shadow. But she
looked up as he drew bridle and wheeled his mount
60

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

beside her; and, "Oh!" she said, flushing in
recognition.

"I have missed you terribly," he said quietly.
It was dreamy weather, even for late spring:
the scent of lilacs and mock-orange hung heavy
as incense along the woods. Their voices uncon
sciously found the key to harmonize with it all.

She said : " Well, I think I have succeeded. In
a few moments she will be passing. I do not know
her name ; she rides a big roan. She is very beau
tiful, Mr. Gatewood."

He said : " I am perfectly certain we shall find
her. I doubted it until now. But now I know."
" Oh-h, but I may be wrong," she protested.
" No ; you cannot be."
She looked up at him.

" You can have no idea how happy you make
me," he said unsteadily.

« But — I — but I may be all wrong — dreadfully
wrong ! "

" Y-es ; you may be, but I shall not be. For
do you know that I have already seen her in the
Park?"

"When?" she demanded incredulously, then
turned in the saddle, repeating: "Where? Did
she pass ? How perfectly stupid of me ! And was
she the — the right one? "
61

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" She is the right one. . . . Don't turn : I have
seen her. Ride on: I want to say something — if
I can."

" No, no," she insisted. " I must know whether
I was right "

" You are right — but you don't know it yet.
. . . Oh, very well, then ; we'll turn if you insist."
And he wheeled his mount as she did, riding at
her bridle again.

" How can you take it so coolly — so indiffer
ently?" she said. "Where has that woman —
where has she gone? . . . Never mind; she must
turn and pass us sooner or later, for she lives up
town. What are you laughing at, Mr. Gate-
wood ? " — in annoyed surprise.

" I am laughing at myself. Oh, I'm so many
kinds of a fool — you can't think how many, and
it's no use ! "

She stared, astonished; he shook his head.

" No, you don't understand yet. But you will.
Listen to me: this very beautiful lady you have
discovered is nothing to me ! "

" Nothing — to you ! " she faltered. Two pink
spots of indignation burned in her cheeks. " How
— how dare you say that ! — after all that has been
done — all that you have said. You said you loved
her; you did say so — to me! "
62

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I don't love her now."

" But you did ! " Tears of pure vexation
started; she faced him, eye to eye, thoroughly
incensed.

" What sort of man are you? " she said under
her breath. " Your friend Mr. Kerns is wrong.
You are not worth saving from yourself."

" Kerns ! " he repeated, angry and amazed.
" What the deuce has Kerns to do with this
affair?"

She stared, then, realizing her indiscretion, bit
her lip, and spurred forward. But he put his
horse to a gallop, and they pounded along in
silence. In a little while she drew bridle and looked
around coldly, grave with displeasure.

" Mr. Kerns came to us before you did. He
said you would probably come, and he begged us
to strain every effort in your behalf, because, he
said, your happiness absolutely depended upon our
finding for you the woman you were seeking. . . .
And I tried — very hard — and now she's found.
You admit that — and now you say "

" I say that one of these balmy summer days
I'll assassinate Tommy Kerns ! " broke in Gate-
wood. " What on earth possessed that prince of
butters-in to go to Mr. Keen ? "

" To save you from yourself ! " retorted the

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

girl in a low, exasperated voice. " He did not say
what threatened you; he is a good friend for a
man to have. But we soon found out what you
were— a man well born, well bred, full of brilliant
possibility, who was slowly becoming an idle, cyni
cal, self-centered egoist — a man who, lacking the
lash of need or the spur of ambition, was degen
erating through the sheer uselessness and inanity
of his life. And, oh, the pity of it ! For Mr. Keen
and I have taken a — a curiously personal interest
in you — in your case. I say, the pity of it ! "

Astounded, dumb under her stinging words, he
rode beside her through the brilliant sunshine,
wheeled mechanically as she turned her horse, and
rode north again.

" And now — now ! " she said passionately,
" you turn on the woman you loved ! Oh, you are
not worth it ! "

" You are quite right," he said, turning very
white under her scorn. " Almost all you have said
is true enough, I fancy. I amount to nothing ; I
am idle, cynical, selfish. The emptiness of such a
life requires a stimulant; even a fool abhors a
vacuum. So I drink — not so very much yet — but
more than I realize. And it is close enough to
a habit to worry me. . . . Yes, almost all you say
is true ; Kerns knows it ; I know it — now that you
64

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

have told me. You see, he couldn't tell me, because
I should not have believed him. But I believe you

all you say, except one thing. And that is only

a glimmer of decency left in me — not that I make
any merit of it. No, it is merely instinctive. For
I have not turned on the woman I loved."

Her face was pale as her level eyes met him :

" You said she was nothing to you. . . . Look
there! Do you see her? Do you see? "

Her voice broke nervously as he swung around
to stare at a rider bearing down at a gallop — a
woman on a big roan, tearing along through the
spring sunshine, passing them with wind-flushed
cheeks and dark, incurious eyes, while her power
ful horse carried her on, away through the quiv<
ering light and shadow of the woodland vista.

"Is that the person?"

" Y-es," she faltered. " Was I wrong? "

" Quite wrong, Miss Southerland."

« But — but you said you had seen her here this
morning ! "

" Yes, I have."

" Did you speak to her before you met me? "

" No — not before I met you."

" Then you have not spoken to her. Is she still
herein the Park?"

" Yes, she is still here."
65

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

The girl turned on him excitedly : " Do you
mean to say that you will not speak to her ? "

" I had rather not "

" And your happiness depends on your speak
ing? "

" Yes."

" Then it is cowardly not to speak."

" Oh, yes, it is cowardly. ... If you wish me
to speak to her I will. Shall I? "

" Yes. . . . Show her to me."

" And you think that such a man as I am has
a right to speak of love to her ? "

" I — we believe it will be your salvation. Mr.
Kerns says you must marry her to be happy. Mr.
Keen told me yesterday that it only needed a word
from the right woman to put you on your mettle.
. . . And — and that is my opinion."

" Then in charity say that word ! " he breathed,
bending toward her. " Can't you see? Can't you
understand? Don't you know that from the mo
ment I looked into your eyes I loved you ? "

" How — how dare you ! " she stammered, crim
soning.

"God knows," he said wistfully. " I am a
coward. I don't know how I dared. Good-
by. . . ."

He walked his horse a little way, then launched
66

Then in charity say that word ! ' '

[Page 66]

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

him into a gallop, tearing on and on, sun, wind,
trees swimming, whirling like a vision, hearing
nothing, feeling nothing, save the leaden pound
ing of his pulse and the breathless, terrible tight
ening in his throat.

When he cleared his eyes and looked around he
was quite alone, his horse walking under the trees
and breathing heavily.

At first he laughed, and the laugh was not
pleasant. Then he said aloud : " It is worth hav
ing lived for, after all ! " — and was silent. And
again : " I could expect nothing ; she was perfectly
right to side-step a fool. . . . And such a fool ! "

The distant gallop of a horse, dulled on the soft
soil, but coming nearer, could not arouse him from
the bitter depths he had sunk in ; not even when the
sound ceased beside him, and horse snorted recog
nition to horse. It was only when a light touch
rested on his arm that he looked up heavily,
caught his breath.

" Where is the other — woman ? " she gasped.

" There never was any other."
. « You said "

" I said I loved my ideal. I did not know she
existed — until I saw you."

" Then — then we were searching for "

" A vision. But it was your face that haunted
67

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

me. . . . And I am not worth it, as you say. And
I know it, ... for you have opened my eyes."

He drew bridle, forcing a laugh. " I cut a
sorry figure in your life ; be patient ; I am going
out of it now." And he swung his horse. At the
same moment she did the same, making a demi-
tour and meeting him halfway, confronting him.

" Do you — you mean to ride out of my life
without a word ? " she asked unsteadily.

" Good-by." He offered his hand, stirring his
horse forward; she leaned lightly over and laid
both hands in his. Then, her face surging in
color, she lifted her beautiful dark eyes to his as
the horses approached, nearer, nearer, until, as
they passed, flank brushing flank, her eyes fell,
then closed as she swayed toward him, and clung,
her young lips crushed to his.

There was nobody to witness it except the birds
and squirrels — nobody but a distant mounted po
liceman, who almost fainted away in his saddle.

Oh, it was awful, awful! Apparently she had
been kissed speechless, for she said nothing. The
man fool did all the talking, incoherently enough,
but evidently satisfactory to her, judging from
the way she looked at him, and blushed and
blushed, and touched her eyes with a bit of cam
bric at intervals.

68

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

All the policeman heard as they passed him was :
" I'm going to give you this horse, and Kerns is
to give us our silver ; and what do you think, my
darling?"

"W-what?"

But they had already passed out of earshot;
and in a few moments the shady, sun-flecked bridle
path was deserted again save for the birds and
squirrels, and a single mounted policeman, rigid,
wild eyed, twisting his mustache and breathing
hard.

69

CHAPTER VII

THE news of Gatewood's fate filled Kerns with
a pleasure bordering upon melancholy. It was his
work; he had done it; it was good for Gatewood
too — time for him to stop his irresponsible cruise
through life, lower sail, heave to, set his signals,
and turn over matters to this charming pilot.

And now they would come into port together
and anchor somewhere east of Fifth Avenue —
which, Kerns reflected, was far more proper a place
for Gatewood than somewhere east of Suez, where
young men so often sail.

And yet, and yet there was something melan
choly in the pleasure he experienced. Gatewood
was practically lost to him. He knew what might
be expected from engaged men and newly married
men. Gatewood's club life was ended — for a while ;
and there was no other man with whom he cared to
embark for those brightly lighted harbors twin
kling east of Suez across the metropolitan wastes.

" It's very generous of me to get him married,"

he said frequently to himself, rather sadly. " I

did it pretty well, too. It only shows that women

have no particular monopoly in the realms of

70

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

diplomacy and finesse; in fact, if a man really
chooses to put his mind to such matters, he can
make it no trumps and win out behind a bum ace
and a guarded knave."

He was pleased with himself. He followed Gate-
wood about explaining how good he had been to
him. An enthusiasm for marrying off his friends
began to germinate within him ; he tried it on Dar-
rell, on Barnes, on Yates, but was turned down and
severely stung.

Then one day Harren of the Philippine Scouts
turned up at the club, and they held a determined
reunion until daylight, and they told each other
all about it all and what upper-cuts life had
handed out to them since the troopship sailed.

And after the rosy glow had deepened to a
more gorgeous hue in the room, and the electric
lights had turned into silver pinwheels ; and after
they had told each other the story of their lives,
and the last siphon fizzed impotently when urged
beyond its capacity, Kerns arose and extended his
hand, and Harren took it. And they executed a
song resembling " Auld Lang Syne."

" Ole man," said Kerns reproachfully, " there's
one thing you have been deuced careful not to
mention, and that is about what happened to you

three years ago "

6 71

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Steady ! " said Harren ; " there is nothing to
tell, Tommy."

" Nothing? "

" Nothing. I never saw her again. I never
shall."

Kerns looked long and unsteadily upon his
friend; then very gravely fumbled in his pocket
and drew forth the business card of Westrel Keen,
Tracer of Lost Persons.

" That," he said, " will be about all." And he
bestowed the card upon Harren with magnificent
condescension.

And about five o'clock the following afternoon
Harren found the card among various effects of
his, scattered over his dresser.

It took him several days to make up his mind
to pay any attention to the card or the suggestion
it contained. He scarcely considered it seriously
even when, passing along Fifth Avenue one sunny
afternoon, he chanced to glance up and see the
sign

KEEN & CO.
TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS

staring him in the face.

He continued his stroll, but that evening, upon
mere impulse, he sat down and wrote a letter to
Mr. Keen.

72

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

The next morning's mail brought a reply and
an appointment for an interview on Wednesday
week. Harren tossed the letter aside, satisfied to
let the matter go, because his leave expired on
Tuesday, and the appointment was impossible.

On Sunday, however, the melancholy of the de
serted club affected his spirits. A curious desire
to see this Tracer of Lost Persons seized him with
a persistence unaccountable. He slept poorly,
haunted with visions.

On Monday he went to see Mr. Keen. It could
do no harm ; it was too late to do either harm or
good, for his leave expired the next day at noon.

The business of Keen & Co., Tracers of Lost
Persons, had grown to enormous proportions ; ap
pointments for a personal interview with Mr. Keen
were now made a week in advance, so when young
Harren sent in his card, the gayly liveried negro
servant came back presently, threading his way
through the waiting throng with pomp and cir
cumstance, and returned the card to Harren with
the date of appointment rewritten in ink across the
top. The day named was Wednesday. On Tues
day Harren's leave expired.

" That won't do," said the young man
brusquely ; " I must see Mr. Keen to-day. I
wrote last week for an appointment."
73

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

The liveried darky was polite but obdurate.

" Dis here am de 'pintment, suh," he explained
persuasively.

" But I want to see Mr. Keen at once," insisted
Harren.

" Hit ain't no use, suh," said the darky respect
fully; " dey's mi'ions an' mi'ions ob gemmen jess
a-settin' roun' an' waitin' foh Mistuh Keen. In
dis here perfeshion, suh, de fustest gemman dat
has a 'pintment is de fustest gemman dat kin see
Mistuh Keen. You is a military gemman yohse'f,
Cap'm Harren, an' you is aware dat precedence
am de rigger."

The bronzed young man smiled, glanced at the
date of appointment written on his card, which
also bore his own name followed by the letters
U. S. A., then his amused gray eyes darkened and
he glanced leisurely around the room, where a
dozen or more assorted people sat waiting their
turns to interview Mr. Keen: all sorts and condi
tions of people — smartly gowned women, an anx
ious-browed business man or two, a fat German
truck driver, his greasy cap on his knees, a surly
policeman, and an old Irishwoman, wearing a
shawl and an ancient straw bonnet. Harren's
eyes reverted to the darky.

" You will explain to Mr. Keen," he said, " that
74

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

I am an army officer on leave, and that I am
obliged to start for Manila to-morrow. This is
my excuse for asking an immediate interview ; and
if it's not a good enough excuse I must cancel this
appointment, that is all."

The darky stood, irresolute, inclined to argue,
but something in the steel-gray eyes of the man
set him in involuntary motion, and he went away
once more with the young man's message. Harren
turned and walked back to his seat. The old
woman with the faded shawl was explaining volubly
to a handsomely gowned woman beside her that she
was looking for her boy, Danny; that her name
was Mrs. Regan, and that she washed for the aris
tocracy of Hunter's Point at a liberal price per
dozen, using no deleterious substances in the suds
as Heaven was her witness.

The German truck driver, moved by this confi
dence, was stirred to begin an endless account of
his domestic misfortunes, and old Mrs. Regan, be
coming impatient, had already begun to interrupt
with an account of Regan's recent hoisting on the
wings of a premature petard, when the dark serv
ant reappeared.

" Mistuh Keen will receive you, suh," he whis
pered, leading the way into a large room where
dozens of attractive young girls sat very busily
75

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

engaged at typewriting machines. Door after
door they passed, all numbered on the ground-
glass panes, then swung to the right, where the
darky bowed him into a big, handsomely furnished
room flooded with the morning sun. A tall, gray
man, faultlessly dressed in a gray frock suit and
wearing white spats, turned from the breezy, open
window to inspect him; the lean, well groomed,
rather lank type of gentleman suggesting a re
tired colonel of cavalry; unmistakably well bred
from the ends of his drooping gray mustache to
the last button on his immaculate spats.

" Captain Harren ? " he said pleasantly.

"Mr. Keen?"

They bowed. Young Harren drew from his
pocket a card. It was the business card of Keen
& Co., and, glancing up at Mr. Keen, he read it
aloud, carefully:

KEEN & CO.

TRACERS OF LOST PERSONS

Keen & Co. are prepared to locate the

whereabouts of anybody on earth.

No charges will be made unless

the person searched for

is found.
Blanks on Application.

WESTREL KEEN, Manager.
76

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Harren raised his clear, gray eyes. " I assume
this statement to be correct, Mr. Keen ? "

" You may safely assume so," said Mr. Keen,
smiling.

" Does this statement include all that you are
prepared to undertake? "

The Tracer of Lost Persons inspected him
coolly. " What more is there, Captain Harren ?
I undertake to find lost people. I even undertake
to find the undiscovered ideals of young people
who have failed to meet them. What further field
would you suggest?" Harren glanced at the
card which he held in his gloved hand ; then, very
slowly, he re-read, " the whereabouts of anybody
on earth," accenting the last two words deliber
ately as he encountered Keen's piercing gaze
again.

"Well?" asked Mr. Keen laughingly, "is not
that sufficient? Our clients could scarcely expect
us to invade heaven in our search for the
vanished."

" There are other regions," said Harren.

" Exactly. Sit down, sir. There is a row of
bookcases for your amusement. Please help your
self while I clear decks for action."

Harren stood fingering the card, his gray eyes
lost in retrospection ; then he sauntered over to
77

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

the bookcases, scanning the titles. The Searcher
for Lost Persons studied him for a moment or two,
turned, and began to pace the room. After a
moment or two he touched a bell. A sweet-faced
young girl entered ; she was gowned in black and
wore a white collar, and cuffs turned back over her
hands.

4 Take this memorandum," he said. The girl
picked up a pencil and pad, and Mr. Keen, still
pacing the room, dictated in a quiet voice as he
walked to and fro :

" Mrs. Regan's Danny is doing six months in
Butte, Montana. Break it to her as mercifully as
possible. He is a bad one. We make no charge.
The truck driver, Becker, can find his wife at her
mother's house, Leonia, New Jersey. Tell him to
be less pig-headed or she'll go for good some day.
Ten dollars. Mrs. M., No. 36001, can find her
missing butler in service at 79 Vine Street, Hart
ford, Connecticut. She may notify the police
whenever she wishes. His portrait is No. 170529,
Rogues' Gallery. Five hundred dollars. Miss K.
(No. 3679) may send her letter, care of Cisneros
& Co., Rio, where the person she is seeking has
gone into the coffee business. If she decides that
she really does love him, he'll come back fast
enough. Two hundred and fifty dollars. Mr. W.
78

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

(No. 3620) must go to the morgue for further
information. His repentance is too late; but he
can see that there is a decent burial. The charge :
one thousand dollars to the Florence Mission.
You may add that we possess his full record."

The Tracer paused and waited for the stenogra
pher to finish. When she looked up : " Who else
is waiting? " he asked.

The girl read over the initials and numbers.

" Tell that policeman that Kid Conroy sails on
the Carania to-morrow. Fifty dollars. There is
nothing definite in the other cases. Report prog
ress and send out a general alarm for the cashier
inquired for by No. 3608. You will find details
in vol. xxxix under B."

"Is that all, Mr. Keen?"

"Yes. I'm going to be very busy with" —
turning slowly toward Harren — " with Captain
Harren, of the Philippine Scouts, until to-morrow
— a very complicated case, Miss Borrow, involv
ing cipher codes and photography '

79

CHAPTER VIII

HARREN started, then walked slowly to the cen
ter of the room as the pretty stenographer passed
out with a curious level glance at him.

" Why do you say that photography plays a
part in my case? " he asked.

"Doesn't it?"

" Yes. But how "

" Oh, I only guessed it," said Keen with a smile.
" I made another guess that your case involved a
cipher code. Does it? "

4 Y-es," said the young man, astonished, " but
I don't see "

" It also involves the occult," observed Keen
calmly. " We may need Miss Borrow to help us."

Almost staggered, Harren stared at the Tracer
out of his astonished gray eyes until that gentle
man laughed outright and seated himself, motion
ing Harren to do likewise.

" Don't be surprised, Captain Harren," he said.
" I suppose you have no conception of our busi
ness, no realization of its scope — its network of
information bureaus all over the civilized world, its
80

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

myriad sources of information, the immensity of
its delicate machinery, the endless data and the in
finitesimal details we have at our command. You,
of course, have no idea of the number of people
of every sort and condition who are in our employ,
of the ceaseless yet inoffensive surveillance we
maintain. For example, when your letter came
last week I called up the person who has charge
of the army list. There you were, Kenneth Har-
ren, Captain Philippine Scouts, with the date of
your graduation from West Point. Then I called
up a certain department devoted to personal de
tail, and in five minutes I knew your entire history.
I then touched another electric button, and in a
minute I had before me the date of your arrival
in New York, your present address, and " —he
looked up quizzically at Harren— " and several
items of general information, such as your pecu
liar use of your camera, and the list of books on
Psychical Phenomena and Cryptograms which you

have been buying "

Harren flushed up. " Do you mean to say that
I have been spied upon, Mr. Keen ? "

" No more than anybody else who comes to us as
a client. There was nothing offensive in the sur
veillance." He shrugged his shoulders and made
a deprecating gesture. " Ours is a business, my
81

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

dear sir, like any other. We, of course, are
obliged to know about people who call on us.
Last week you wrote me, and I immediately set
every wheel in motion ; in other words, I had you
under observation from the day I received your
letter to this very moment."

"You learned much concerning me?" asked
Harren quietly.

" Exactly, my dear sir."

" But," continued Harren with a touch of mal
ice, " you didn't learn that my leave is up to
morrow, did you ? "

" Yes, I learned that, too."

>4 Then why did you give me an appointment
for the day after to-morrow?" demanded the
young man bluntly.

The Tracer looked him squarely in the eye.
" Your leave is to be extended," he said.

"What?"

" Exactly. It has been extended one week."

" How do you know that? "

" You applied for extension, did you not? "

" Yes," said Harren, turning red, " but I don't
see how you knew that I "

"By cable?"

" Y-yes."

" There's a cablegram in your rooms at this
82

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

very moment," said the Tracer carelessly. " You
have the extension you desired. And now, Cap
tain Harren," with a singularly pleasant smile,
" what can I do to help you to a pursuit of that
true happiness which is guaranteed for all good
citizens under our Constitution?"

Captain Harren crossed his long legs, dropping
one knee over the other, and deliberately surveyed
his interrogator.

" I really have no right to come to you," he
said slowly. " Your prospectus distinctly states
that Keen & Co. undertake to find live people, and
I don't know whether the person I am seeking is
alive or — or "

His steady voice faltered; the Tracer watched
him curiously.

" Of course, that is important," he said. " If
she is dead — — "

" She! "

" Didn't you say ' she,' Captain? "

" No, I did not."

" I beg your pardon, then, for anticipating
you," said the Tracer carelessly.

" Anticipating ? How do you know it is not a
man I am in search of? " demanded Harren.

" Captain Harren, you are unmarried and have
no son ; you have no father, no brother, no sister.
83

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Therefore I infer — several things — for example,
that you are in love."

"I? In love?"

" Desperately, Captain."

" Your inferences seem to satisfy you, at least,"
said Harren almost sullenly, " but they don't sat
isfy me — clever as they appear to be."

" Exactly. Then you are not in love? "

" I don't know whether I am or not."

" I do," said the Tracer of Lost Persons.

" Then you know more than I," retorted
Harren sharply.

" But that is my business — to know more than
you do," returned Mr. Keen patiently. " Else
why are you here to consult me ? " And as Harren
made no reply : " I have seen thousands and thou
sands of people in love. I have reduced the super
ficial muscular phenomena and facial sympto
matic aspect of such people to an exact science
founded upon a schedule approximating the Ber-
tillon system of records. And," he added, smiling,
" out of the twenty-seven known vocal variations
your voice betrays twenty-five unmistakable symp
toms; and out of the sixteen reflex muscular
symptoms your face has furnished six, your hands
three, your limbs and feet six. Then there are

other superficial symptoms '

64

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Good heavens ! " broke in Harren ; " how can
you prove a man to be in love when he himself
doesn't know whether he is or not? If a man isn't
in love no Bertillon system can make him so ; and
if a man doesn't know whether or not he is in love,
who can tell him the truth? "

" I can," said the Tracer calmly.
"What! When I tell you I myself don't
know?"

" That," said the Tracer, smiling, " is the final
and convincing symptom. You don't know. /
know because you don't know. That is the easiest
way to be sure that you are in love, Captain Har
ren, because you always are when you are not sure.
You'd know if you were not in love. Now, my
dear sir, you may lay your case confidently before
me."

Harren, unconvinced, sat frowning and biting
his lip and twisting his short, crisp mustache
which the tropical sun had turned straw color and
curly.

" I feel like a fool to tell you," he said. " I'm
not an imaginative man, Mr. Keen ; I'm not fan
ciful, not sentimental. I'm perfectly healthy,
perfectly normal — a very busy man in my pro
fession, with no time and no inclination to fall
in love."

85

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Just the sort of man who does it," commented
Keen. " Continue."

Harren fidgeted about in his chair, looked out
of the window, squinted at the ceiling, then
straightened up, folding his arms with sudden
determination.

" I'd rather be boloed than tell you," he said.
"Perhaps, after all, I am a lunatic; perhaps
I've had a touch of the Luzon sun and don't
know it."

" I'll be the judge," said the Tracer, smiling.

" Very well, sir. Then I'll begin by telling you
that I've seen a ghost."

'There are such things," observed Keen
quietly.

" Oh, I don't mean one of those fabled sheeted
creatures that float about at night; I mean a
phantom — a real phantom — in the sunlight —
standing before my very eyes in broad day ! . . .
Now do you feel inclined to go on with my case,
Mr. Keen?"

" Certainly," replied the Tracer gravely.
" Please continue, Captain Harren."

" All right, then. Here's the beginning of it :

Three years ago, here in New York, drifting

along Fifth Avenue with the crowd, I looked up

to encounter the most wonderful pair of eyes that

86

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

I ever beheld — that any living man ever beheld!
The most — wonderfully — beautiful "

He sat so long immersed in retrospection that
the Tracer said : " I am listening, Captain," and
the Captain woke up with a start.

" What was I saying ? How far had I pro
ceeded? "

" Only to the eyes."

" Oh, I see ! The eyes were dark, sir, dark and
lovely beyond any power of description. The hair
was also dark — very soft and thick and — er —
wavy and dark. The face was extremely youthful,
and ornamental to the uttermost verges of a
beauty so exquisite that, were I to attempt to
formulate for you its individual attractions, I
should, I fear, transgress the strictly rigid bounds
of that reticence which becomes a gentleman in
complete possession of his senses."

" Exactly," mused the Tracer.

" Also," continued Captain Harren, with grow
ing animation, " to attempt to describe her figure
would be utterly useless, because I am a practical
man and not a poet, nor do I read poetry or in
dulge in futile novels or romances of any descrip
tion. Therefore I can only add that it was a
figure, a poise, absolutely faultless, youthful,
beautiful, erect, wholesome, gracious, graceful,
7 87

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

charmingly buoyant and — well, I cannot describe
her figure, and I shall not try."

" Exactly ; don't try."

" No," said Harren mournfully, " it is use
less " ; and he relapsed into enchanted retrospec
tion.

" Who was she? " asked Mr. Keen softly.

" I don't know."

" You never again saw her? "

" Mr. Keen, I — I am not ill-bred, but I sim
ply could not help following her. She was so
b-b-beautiful that it hurt; and I only wanted to
look at her; I didn't mind being hurt. So I
walked on and on, and sometimes I'd pass her and
sometimes I'd let her pass me, and when she wasn't
looking I'd look — not offensively, but just because
I couldn't help it. And all the time my senses were
humming like a top and my heart kept jumping
to get into my throat, and I hadn't a notion where
I was going or what time it was or what day of
the week. She didn't see me ; she didn't dream that
I was looking at her ; she didn't know me from any
of the thousand silk-hatted, frock-coated men who
passed and repassed her on Fifth Avenue. And
when she went into St. Berold's Church, I went,
too, and I stood where I could see her and where
she couldn't see me. It was like a touch of the
88

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Luzon sun, Mr. Keen. And then she came out and
got into a Fifth Avenue stage, and I got in, too.
And whenever she looked away I looked at her —
without the slightest offense, Mr. Keen, until,
once, she caught my eye "

He passed an unsteady hand over his forehead.

" For a moment we looked full at one another,"
he continued. " I got red, sir ; I felt it, and I
couldn't look away. And when I turned color like
a blooming beet, she began to turn pink like a rose
bud, and she looked full into my eyes with such a
wonderful purity, such exquisite innocence, that I
— I never felt so near — er — heaven in my life !
No, sir, not even when they ambushed us at Manoa
Wells — but that's another thing — only it is part
of this business."

He tightened his clasped hands over his knee
until the knuckles whitened.

" That's my story, Mr. Keen," he said crisply.

"All of it?"

Harren looked at the floor, then at Keen:
" No, not all. You'll think me a lunatic if I tell
you all."

" Oh, you saw her again ? "

" N-never ! That is "

"Never?"

" Not in—in the flesh."
89

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Oh, in dreams?"

Harren stirred uneasily. " I don't know what
you call them. I have seen her since — in the sun
light, in the open, in my quarters in Manila,
standing there perfectly distinct, looking at me
with such strange, beautiful eyes —

" Go on," said the Tracer, nodding.

" What else is there to say ? " muttered Harren.

" You saw her — or a phantom which resembled
her. Did she speak?"

" No."

" Did you speak to her ? "

" N-no. Once I held out my — my arms."

"What happened?"

" She wasn't there," said Harren simply.

"She vanished?"

" No — I don't know. I — I didn't see her any
more."

"Didn't she fade?"

" No. I can't explain. She — there was only
myself in the room."

" How many times has she appeared to you ? "

" A great many times."

" In your room? "

'* Yes. And in the road under a vertical sun ;
in the forest, in the paddy fields. I have seen her
passing through the hallway of a friend's house —
90

Standing there . . . looking at me with such strange
beautiful eyes

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

turning on the stair to look back at me! I saw
her standing just back of the firing-line at Manoa
Wells when we were preparing to rush the forts,
and it scared me so that I jumped forward to draw
her back. But — she wasn't there, Mr. Keen. . . .

" On the transport she stood facing me on deck
one moonlit evening for five minutes. I saw her
in 'Frisco; she sat in the Pullman twice between
Denver and this city. Twice in my room at the
Vice-Regent she has sat opposite me at midday, so
clear, so beautiful, so real that — that I could

scarcely believe she was only a — a " He

hesitated.

" The apparition of her own subconscious self,"
said the Tracer quietly. " Science has been forced
to admit such things, and, as you know, we are
on the verge of understanding the alphabet of
some of the unknown forces which we must some
day reckon with."

Harren, tense, a trifle pale, gazed at him
earnestly.

" Do you believe in such things ? "

" How can I avoid believing? " said the Tracer.
" Every day, in my profession, we have proof of
the existence of forces for which we have as yet no
explanation — or, at best, a very crude one. I have
had case after case of premonition ; case after case
91

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

of dual and even multiple personality ; case after
case where apparitions played a vital part in the
plot which was brought to me to investigate. I'll
tell you this, Captain : I, personally, never saw an
apparition, never was obsessed by premonitions,
never received any communications from the outer
void. But I have had to do with those who un
doubtedly did. Therefore I listen with all serious
ness and respect to what you tell me."

" Suppose," said Harren, growing suddenly
red, " that I should tell you I have succeeded in
photographing this phantom."

The Tracer sat silent. He was astounded, but
he did not betray it.

" You have that photograph, Captain Har
ren?"

" Yes."

"Where is it?"

" In my rooms."

" You wish me to see it ? "

Harren hesitated. " I — there is — seems to be —
something almost sacred to me in that photo
graph. . . . You understand me, do you not?
Yet, if it will help you in finding her—

"Oh," said the Tracer in guileless astonish
ment, "you desire to find this young lady.
Why?"

92

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Harren stared. "Why? Why do I want to
find her ? Man, I — I can't live without her ! "

" I thought you were not certain whether you
really could be in love."

The hot color in the Captain's bronzed cheeks
mounted to his hair.

" Exactly," purred the Tracer, looking out of
the window. " Suppose we walk around to your
rooms after luncheon. Shall we? "

Harren picked up his hat and gloves, hesitat
ing, lingering on the threshold. " You don't
think she is — a — dead? " he asked unsteadily.

" No," said Mr. Keen, « I don't."

" Because," said Harren wistfully, " her appa
rition is so superbly healthy and — and glowing
with youth and life "

" That is probably what sent it half the world
over to confront you," said the Tracer gravely;
" youth and life aglow with spiritual health. I
think, Captain, that she has been seeing you, too,
during these three years, but probably only in
her dreams — memories of your encounters with
her subconscious self floating over continents and
oceans in a quest of which her waking intelligence
is innocently unaware."

The Captain colored like a schoolboy, lingering
at the door, hat in hand. Then he straightened up
93

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

to the full height of his slim but powerful
figure.

" At three? " he inquired bluntly.

" At three o'clock in your room, Hotel Vice-
Regent. Good morning, Captain."

" Good morning," said Harren dreamily, and
walked away, head bent, gray eyes lost in retro
spection, and on his lean, bronzed, attractive face
an afterglow of color wholly becoming.

CHAPTER IX

WHEN the Tracer of Lost Persons entered Cap
tain Barren's room at the Hotel Vice-Regent that
afternoon he found the young man standing at a
center table, pencil in hand, studying a sheet of
paper which was covered with letters and figures.

The two men eyed one another in silence for a
moment, then Harren pointed grimly to the con
fusion of letters and figures covering dozens of
scattered sheets lying on the table.

" That's part of my madness," he said with a
short laugh. " Can you make anything of such
lunatic work ? "

The Tracer picked up a sheet of paper covered
with letters of the alphabet and Roman and Arabic
numerals. He dropped it presently and picked up
another comparatively blank sheet, on which were
the following figures:

I23456789O

He studied it for a while, then glanced inter
rogatively at Harren.

95

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" It's nothing," said Harren. " I've been grop
ing for three years — but it's no use. That's
lunatics' work." He wheeled squarely on his
heels, looking straight at the Tracer. " Do you
think I've had a touch of the sun ? "

" No," said Mr. Keen, drawing a chair to the
table. " Saner men than you or I have spent a
lifetime over this so-called Seal of Solomon." He
laid his finger on the two symbols —

xx

Then, looking across the table at Harren : " What,"
he asked, " has the Seal of Solomon to do with
your case? "

" She— " muttered Harren, and fell silent.

The Tracer waited ; Harren said nothing.

" Where is the photograph? "

Harren unlocked a drawer in the table, hesi
tated, looked strangely at the Tracer.

" Mr. Keen," he said, " there is nothing on
earth I hold more sacred than this. There is only
one thing in the world that could justify me in
showing it to a living soul — my — my desire to
find— her "

" No," said Keen coolly, " that is not enough
to justify you — the mere desire to find the living
96

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

original of this apparition. Nothing could jus
tify your showing it unless you love her."

Harren held the picture tightly, staring full at
the Tracer. A dull flush mounted to his forehead,
and very slowly he laid the picture before the
Tracer of Lost Persons.

Minute after minute sped while the Tracer bent
above the photograph, his finely modeled features
absolutely devoid of expression. Harren had
drawn his chair beside him, and now sat leaning
forward, bronzed cheek resting in his hand, star
ing fixedly at the picture.

"When was this — this photograph taken?"
asked the Tracer quietly.

" The day after I arrived in New York. I was
here, alone, smoking my pipe and glancing over
the evening paper just before dressing for dinner.
It was growing rather dark in the room; I had
not turned on the electric light. My camera lay
on the table — there it is! — that kodak. I had
taken a few snapshots on shipboard; there was
one film left."

He leaned more heavily on his elbow, eyes fixed
upon the picture.

"It was almost dark," he repeated. "I laid
aside the evening paper and stood up, thinking
about dressing for dinner, when my eyes happened
97

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

to fall on the camera. It occurred to me that I
might as well unload it, let the unused film go, and
send the roll to be developed and printed; and I

picked up the camera "

" Yes," said the Tracer softly.
" I picked it up and was starting toward the
window where there remained enough daylight to

see by "

The Tracer nodded gently.
" Then I saw her ! " said Harren under his
breath.

"Where?"

6 There — standing by that window. You can
see the window and curtain in the photograph."
The Tracer gazed intently at the picture.
" She looked at me," said Harren, steadying his
voice. " She was as real as you are, and she stood
there, smiling faintly, her dark, lovely eyes meet
ing mine."

"Did you speak?"
" No."

" How long did she remain there ? "
" I don't know — time seemed to stop — the
world — everything grew still. . . . Then, little
by little, something began to stir under my
stunned senses — that germ of misgiving, that
dreadful doubt of my own sanity. ... I scarcely
98

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

knew what I was doing when I took the photo
graph; besides, it had grown quite dark, and I
could scarcely see her." He drew himself erect
with a nervous movement. " How on earth could
I have obtained that photograph of her in the
darkness ? " he demanded.

"N-rays," said the Tracer coolly. "It has
been done in France."

" Yes, from living people, but "

" What the N-ray is in living organisms, we
must call, for lack of a better term, the subaura
in the phantom."

They bent over the photograph together.
Presently the Tracer said : " She is very, very
beautiful?"

Barren's dry lips unclosed, but he uttered no
sound.

" She is beautiful, is she not? " repeated the
Tracer, turning to look at the young man.

" Can you not see she is ? " he asked impatiently.

" No," said the Tracer.

Harren stared at him.

" Captain Harren," continued the Tracer, " I
can see nothing upon this bit of paper that resem
bles in the remotest degree a human face or
figure."

Harren turned white.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Not that I doubt that you can sec it,"
pursued the Tracer calmly. "I simply repeat
that I see absolutely nothing on this paper ex
cept a part of a curtain, a window pane, and —
and "

"What! for God's sake!" cried Harren
hoarsely.

" I don't know yet. Wait ; let me study it."

" Can you not see her face, her eyes ? Don't
you see that exquisite slim figure standing there by
the curtain ? " demanded Harren, laying his shak
ing finger on the photograph. " Why, man, it is
as clear, as clean cut, as distinct as though the
picture had been taken in sunlight ! Do you mean
to say that there is nothing there — that I am
crazy ? "

"No. Wait."

" Wait ! How can I wait when you sit staring
at her picture and telling me that you can't see it,
but that it is doubtless there? Are you deceiving
me, Mr. Keen ? Are you trying to humor me, try
ing to be kind to me, knowing all the while that

I'm crazy "

"Wait, man! You are no more crazy than I
am. I tell you that I can see something on the

window pane "

He suddenly sprang up and walked to the win-
100

THE TRACER OF LOV 7

dow, leaning close and esamiViing il>o gla-1*. Ha •
ren followed and laid his hand lightly over the
pane.

" Do you see any marks on the glass ? " de
manded Keen.

Harren shook his head.

" Have you a magnifying glass ? " asked the
Tracer.

Harren pointed back to the table, and they re
turned to the photograph, the Tracer bending
over it and examining it through the glass.

"All I see," he said, still studying the photo
graph, " is a corner of a curtain and a win
dow on which certain figures seem to have been
cut. . . . Look, Captain Harren, can you see
them?"

" I see some marks — some squares."

" You can't see anything written on that pane
— as though cut by a diamond? "

" Nothing distinct."

" But you see her ? "

" Perfectly."

"In minute detail?"

" Yes."

The Tracer thought a moment : " Does she wear
a ring? "

" Yes ; can't you see ? "
101

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Drawit fwvme.".

They seated themselves side by side, and Harren
drew a rough sketch of the ring which he insisted
was so plainly visible on her hand:

" Oh," observed the Tracer, " she wears the
Seal of Solomon on her ring."

Harren looked up at him. " That symbol has
haunted me persistently for three years," he said.
" I have found it everywhere — on articles that I
buy, on house furniture, on the belts of dead
ladrones, on the hilts of creeses, on the funnels of
steamers, on the headstalls of horses. If they put
a laundry mark on my linen it's certain to be this !

If I buy a box of matches the sign is on it. Why,
I've even seen it on the brilliant wings of trop
ical insects. It's got on my nerves. I dream
about it."

" And you buy books about it and try to work
out its mystical meaning? " suggested the Tracer,
smiling.

But Barren's gray eyes were serious. He said:
" She never comes to me without that symbol some
where about her. ... I told you she never spoke

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

to me. That is true ; yet once, in a vivid dream of
her, she did speak. I — I was almost ashamed to
tell you of that."

" Tell me."

"A — a dream? Do you wish to know what I
dreamed? "

" Yes — if it was a dream."

" It was. I was asleep on the deck of the Min-
dmao, dead tired after a fruitless hike. I dreamed
she came toward me through a young woodland
all lighted by the sun, and in her hands she held
masses of that wild flower we call Solomon's Seal.
And she said — in the voice I know must be like
hers : ' If you could only read ! If you would only
understand the message I send you ! It is every
where on earth for you to read, if you only
would ! '

" I said : ' Is the message in the seal ? Is that
the key to it?'

" She nodded, laughing, burying her face in the
flowers, and said:

" ' Perhaps I can write it more plainly for you
some day ; I will try very, very hard.'

" And after that she went away — not swiftly—
for I saw her at moments far away in the woods ;
but I must have confused her with the glimmering
shafts of sunlight, and in a little while the wood-
8 103

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

land grew dark and I woke with the racket of a
Colt's automatic in my ears."

He passed his sun-bronzed hand over his face,
hesitated, then leaned over the photograph once
more, which the Tracer was studying intently
through the magnifying glass.

" There is something on that window in the pho
tograph which I'm going to copy," he said.
" Please shove a pad and pencil toward me."

Still examining the photograph through the
glass which he held in his right hand, Mr. Keen
picked up the pencil and, feeling for the pad,
began very slowly to form the following series
of symbols :

"What on earth are you doing?" muttered
Captain Harren, twisting his short mustache in
perplexity.

104

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I am copying what I see through this magni
fying glass written on the window pane in the
photograph," said the Tracer calmly. "Can't
you see those marks ? "

« I — I do now ; I never noticed them before par
ticularly — only that there were scratches there."
When at length the Tracer had finished his
work he sat, chin on hand, examining it in silence.
Presently he turned toward Harren, smiling.

"Well?" inquired the younger man impa
tiently ; " do those scratches representing Solo
mon's Seal mean anything? "

" It's the strangest cipher I ever encountered,"
said Mr. Keen—" the strangest I ever heard of.
I have seen hundreds of ciphers — hundreds — se
cret codes of the State Department, secret mili
tary codes, elaborate Oriental ciphers, symbols
used in commercial transactions, symbols used by
criminals and every species of malefactor. And
every one of them can be solved with time and
patience and a little knowledge of the subject.
But this" — he sat looking at it with eyes half
closed — " this is too simple."
"Simple!"

" Very. It's so simple that it's baffling."
" Do you mean to say you are going to be able
to find a meaning in squares and crosses ? "
105

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I — I don't believe it is going to be so very
difficult to translate them."

" Great guns ! " said the Captain. " Do you
mean to say that you can ultimately translate that
cipher?"

The Tracer smiled. " Let's examine it for repe
titions first. Here we have this symbol

repeated five times. It's likely to be the letter E.

I think " His voice ceased; for a quarter of

an hour he pored over the symbols, pencil in hand,
checking off some, substituting a letter here and
there.

" No," he said ; " the usual doesn't work in this
case. It's an absurdly simple cipher. I have a
notion that numbers play a part in it — you see
where these crossed squares are bracketed — those
must be numbers requiring two figures

He fell silent again, and for another quarter of
an hour he remained motionless, immersed in the
problem before him, Harren frowning at the
paper over his shoulder.

106

CHAPTER X

" COME ! " said the Tracer suddenly ; " this
won't do. There are too few symbols to give us
a key ; too few repetitions to furnish us with any
key basis. Come, Captain, let us use our intel
lects; let us talk it over with that paper lying
there between us. It's a simple cipher — a child
ishly simple one if we use our wits. Now, sir,
what I see repeated before us on this sheet of
paper is merely one of the forms of a symbol
known as Solomon's Seal. The symbol is, as we
see, repeated a great many times. Every seal

has been dotted or crossed on some one of the lines
composing it ; some seals are coupled with brackets
and armatures."

" What of it? " inquired Harren vacantly.

" Well, sir, in the first place, that symbol

is supposed to represent the spiritual and material,

as you know. What else do you know about it? "

107

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Nothing. I bought a book about it, but made
nothing of it."

" Isn't it supposed," asked Mr. Keen, " to con
tain within itself the nine numerals, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5,
6, 7, 8, 9, and even the zero symbol? "

" I believe so."

" Exactly. Here's the seal

Now I'll mark the one, two, and three by crossing
the lines, like this:

one,

^ {X] two, [g] three,

Now, eliminating all lines not crossed there remains
the one, ^ the two, ^ the three,

And here is the entire series :

IZZ47A7X7

and the zero — I

A sudden excitement stirred Harren; he leaned
over the paper, gazing earnestly at the cipher;
the Tracer rose and glanced around the room as
though in search of something.

" Is there a telephone here? " he asked.

"For Heaven's sake, don't give this up just
108

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

yet," exclaimed Harren. "These things mean
numbers; don't you see? Look at that!" point
ing to a linked pair of seals,

" That means the number nineteen ! You can form
it by using only the crossed lines of the seal

Don't you see, Mr. Keen? "

"Yes, Captain Harren, the cipher is, as you
say, very plain ; quite as easy to read as so much
handwriting. That is why I wish to use your tele
phone — at once, if you please."

" It's in my bedroom ; you don't mind if I go on
working out this cipher while you're telephoning? "
" Not in the least," said the Tracer blandly.
He walked into the Captain's bedroom, closing the
door behind him ; then he stepped over to the tele
phone, unhooked the receiver, and called up his
own headquarters.

" Hello. This is Mr. Keen. I want to speak
to Miss Borrow."

In a few moments Miss Borrow answered : " I
am here, Mr. Keen."

" Good. Look up the name Inwood. Try New
109

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

York first — Edith Inwood is the name. Look
sharp, please ; I am holding the wire."

He held it for ten full minutes ; then Miss Bor-
row's low voice called him over the wire.

" Go ahead," said the Tracer quietly.

" There is only one Edith Inwood in New York,
Mr. Keen — Miss Edith Inwood, graduate of Bar
nard, 1902 — left an orphan 1903 and obliged to
support herself — became an assistant to Professor
Boggs of the Museum of Inscriptions. Is con
sidered an authority upon Arabian cryptograms.
Has written a monograph on the Herati symbol —
a short treatise on the Swastika. She is twenty-
four years of age. Do you require further
details?"

" No," said the Tracer ; " please ring off."

Then he called up General Information. " I
want the Museum of Inscriptions. Get me their
number, please." After a moment : " Is this the
Museum of Inscriptions ? "

" Is Professor Boggs there? "
" Is this Professor Boggs? "

" Could you find time to decipher an inscription
for me at once? "

110

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Of course I know you are extremely busy, but
have you no assistant who could do it? "

" What did you say her name is ? Miss
Inwood? "

" Oh ! And will the young lady translate the
inscription at once if I send a copy of it to her
by messenger? "

" Thank you very much, Professor. I will send
a messenger to Miss Inwood with a copy of the
inscription. Good-by."

He hung up the receiver, turned thoughtfully,
opened the door again, and walked into the sunlit
living room.

" Look here ! " cried the Captain in a high state
of excitement. " I've got a lot of numbers out of
it already."

" Wonderful ! " murmured the Tracer, looking
over the young man's broad shoulders at a sheet
of paper bearing these numbers:

9— 14— 5— 22— 5— 18— 19— 1—23 — 25— -15
—21—2—21—20—15—14—3—5—9 — 12 — 15
—22—5—25—15—21—5—4—9—20—8—9—

" Marvelous ! " repeated the Tracer, smiling.
Ill

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Now what do you suppose those numbers can
stand for?"

" Letters ! " announced the Captain trium
phantly. •' Take the number nine, for example.
The ninth letter in the alphabet is I ! Mr. Keen,
suppose we try writing down the letters according
to that system ! "

" Suppose we do," agreed the Tracer gravely.

So, counting under his breath, the young man
set down the letters in the following order, not
attempting to group them into words:

INEVERSAWYOUBUTONCEILOVEYOUEDI
THINWOOD.

Then he leaned back, excited, triumphant.

" There you are ! " he said ; " only, of course,
it makes no sense." He examined it in silence, and
gradually a hopeless expression effaced the anima
tion. " How the deuce am I going to separate
that mass of letters into words ? " he muttered.

" This way," said the Tracer, smilingly taking
the pencil from his fingers, and he wrote : I —
NEVER — SAW — YOU — BUT — ONCE. I
- LOVE — YOU. EDITH INWOOD.

Then he laid the pencil on the table and walked
to the window.

Once or twice he fancied that he heard inco-

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

herent sounds behind him. And after a while he
turned, retracing his steps leisurely. Captain
Harren, extremely pink, stood tugging at his
short mustache and studying the papers on the
desk.

" Well? " inquired the Tracer, amused.

The young man pointed to the translation with
unsteady finger. " W-what on earth does that
mean ? " he demanded shakily. " Who is Edith
In wood? W-what on earth does that cryptogram
mean on the window pane in the photograph?
How did it come there? It isn't on my window
pane, you see ! "

The Tracer said quietly : " That is not a pho
tograph of your window."

"What!"

" No, Captain. Here ! Look at it closely
through this glass. There are sixteen small panes
in that sash ; now count the panes in your window
— eight! Besides, look at that curtain. It is
made of some figured stuff like chintz. Now, look
at your own curtain yonder! It is of plain
velour."

" But — but I took that photograph ! She
stood there — there by that very window ! "

The Tracer leaned over the photograph, exam
ining it through the glass. And, studying it, he
113

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

said : " Do you still see her in this photograph,
Captain Harren ? "

" Certainly. Can you not see her ? "

" No," murmured the Tracer, " but I see the
window which she really stood by when her phan
tom came here seeking you. And that is suffi
cient. Come, Captain Harren, we are going out
together."

The Captain looked at him earnestly ; something
in Mr. Keen's eyes seemed to fascinate him.

" You think that — that it's likely we are
g-going to see — her I " he faltered.

" If I were you," mused the Tracer of Lost
Persons, joining the tips of his lean fingers medi
tatively — " If I were you I should wear a silk hat
and a frock coat. It's — it's afternoon, anyhow,"
he added deprecatingly, " and we are liable to
make a call."

Captain Harren turned like a man in a dream
and entered his bedroom. And when he emerged he
was dressed and groomed with pathetic precision.

" Mr. Keen," he said, " I— I don't know why I
am d-daring to hope for all s-sorts of things.
Nothing you have said really warrants it. But
somehow I'm venturing to cherish an absurd
notion that I may s-see her."

" Perhaps," said the Tracer, smiling.
114

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Mr. Keen ! You wouldn't say that if — if
there was no chance, would you? You wouldn't
dash a fellow's hopes "

" No, I wouldn't," said Mr. Keen. " I tell you
frankly that I expect to find her."

"To-day?"

"We'll see," said Mr. Keen guardedly. "Come,
Captain, don't look that way ! Courage, sir ! We
are about to execute a turning movement ; but you
look like a Russian general on his way to the south
front."

Harren managed to laugh; they went out, side
by side, descended the elevator, and found a cab
at the porte-cochere. Mr. Keen gave the direc
tions and followed the Captain into the cab.

" Now," he said, as they wheeled south, " we are
first going to visit the Museum of Inscriptions
and have this cipher translation verified. Here
is the cipher as I copied it. Hold it tightly,
Captain; we've only a few blocks to drive."

Indeed they were already nearly there. The
hansom drew up in front of a plain granite build
ing wedged in between some rather elaborate pri
vate dwelling-houses. Over the door were letters
of dull bronze:

AMERICAN MUSEUM OF INSCRIPTIONS
115

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

and the two men descended and entered a wide
marble hall lined with glass-covered cabinets con
taining plaster casts of various ancient inscrip
tions and a few bronze and marble originals.
Several female frumps were nosing the exhibits.

An attendant in livery stood in the middle dis
tance. The Tracer walked over to him. " I have
an appointment to consult Miss Inwood," he
whispered.

" This way, sir," nodded the attendant, and the
Tracer signaled the Captain to follow.

They climbed several marble stairways, crossed
a rotunda, and entered a room — a sort of library.
Beyond was a door which bore the inscription:

ASSISTANT CURATOR

" Now," said the Tracer of Lost Persons in a
low voice to Captain Harren, " I am going to ask
you to sit here for a few minutes while I interview
the assistant curator. You don't mind, do you? "

" No, I don't mind," said Harren wearily,
" only, when are we going to begin to search
for— her ? "

" Very soon — I may say extremely soon," said
Mr. Keen gravely. " By the way, I think I'll take
that sheet of paper on which I copied the cipher.
Thank you. I won't be long."
116

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

The attendant had vanished. Captain Harren
sat down by a window and gazed out into the late
afternoon sunshine. The Tracer of Lost Persons,
treading softly across the carpeted floor, ap
proached the sanctuary, turned the handle, and
walked in, carefully closing the door behind him.

There was a young girl seated at a desk by an
open window ; she looked up quietly as he entered,
then rose leisurely.

"Miss Inwood?"

" Yes."

She was slender, dark-eyed, dark-haired — a
lovely, wholesome young creature, gracious and
graceful. And that was all — for the Tracer of
Lost Persons could not see through the eyes of
Captain Harren, and perhaps that is why he was
not able to discern a miracle of beauty in the pretty
girl who confronted him — no magic and matchless
marvel of transcendent loveliness — only a quiet,
sweet-faced, dark-eyed young girl whose features
and figure were attractive in the manner that youth
is always attractive. But then it is a gift of the
gods to see through eyes anointed by the gods.

The Tracer touched his gray mustache and
bowed; the girl bowed very sweetly.

" You are Mr. Keen," she said ; " you have an
inscription for me to translate."
117

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" A mystery for young eyes to interpret," he
said, smiling. " May I sit here — and tell my story
before I show you my inscription? "

"Please do," she said, seating herself at her
desk and facing him, one slender white hand sup
porting the oval of her face.

The Tracer drew his chair a little forward.
" It is a curious matter," he said. " May I give
you a brief outline of the details ? "

" By all means, Mr. Keen."

" Then let me begin by saying that the inscrip
tion of which I have a copy was probably scratched
upon a window pane by means of a diamond."

" Oh ! Then — then it is not an ancient inscrip
tion, Mr. Keen."

" The theme is ancient — the oldest theme in the
world — love! The cipher is old — as old as King
Solomon." She looked up quickly. The Tracer,
apparently engrossed in his own story, went on
with it. " Three years ago the young girl who
wrote this inscription upon the window pane of
her — her bedroom, I think it was — fell in love.
Do you follow me, Miss In wood ? "

Miss Inwood sat very still — wide, dark eyes
fixed on him.

" Fell in love," repeated the Tracer musingly,
" not in the ordinary way. That is the point, you
118

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

see. No, she fell in love at first sight ; fell in love
with a young man whom she never before had seen,
never again beheld — and never forgot. Do you
still follow me, Miss Inwood? "

She made the slightest motion with her lips.

" No," mused the Tracer of Lost Persons, " she
never forgot him. I am not sure, but I think she
sometimes dreamed of him. She dreamed of him
awake, too. Once she inscribed a message to him,
cutting it with the diamond in her ring on the
window pane "

A slight sound escaped from Miss Inwood's lips.
66 1 beg your pardon," said the Tracer, " did you
say something? "

The girl had risen, pale, astounded, incredulous.

"Who are you?" she faltered. "What has
this — this story to do with me ? "

" Child," said the Tracer of Lost Persons, " the
Seal of Solomon is a splendid mystery. All of
heaven and earth are included within its symbol.
And more, more than you dream of, more than I
dare fathom; and I am an old man, my child —
old, alone, with nobody to fear for, nothing to
dread, not even the end of all — because I am ready
for that, too. Yet I, having nothing on earth to
dread, dare not fathom what that symbol may
mean, nor what vast powers it may exert on life.
9 119

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

God knows. It may be the very signet of Fate
itself; the sign manual of Destiny."

He drew the paper from his pocket, unrolled it,
and spread it out under her frightened eyes.

" That! " she whispered, steadying herself
blindly against the arm he offered. She stood a
moment so, then, shuddering, covered her eyes with
both hands. The Tracer of Lost Persons looked
at her, turned and opened the door.

" Captain Harren ! " he called quietly. Har-
ren, pacing the anteroom, turned and came for
ward. As he entered the door he caught sight of
the girl crouching by the window, her face hidden
in her hands, and at the same moment she dropped
her hands and looked straight at him.

" You ! " she gasped.

The Tracer of Lost Persons stepped out, clos
ing the door. For a moment he stood there, tall,
gaunt, gray, staring vacantly into space.

" She was beautiful — when she looked at him,"
he muttered.

For another minute he stood there, hesitating,
glancing backward at the closed door. Then he
went away, stooping slightly, his top hat held
close against the breast of his tightly buttoned
frock coat.

120

CHAPTER XI

DURING his first year of wedded bliss, Gatewood
cut the club. When Kerns wanted to see him he
had to call like other people or, like other people,
accept young Mrs. Gatewood's invitations.

" Why," said Gatewood scornfully, " should I,
thirty-four years of age and safely married, go
to a club? Why should I, at my age, idle with a
lot of idlers and listen to stuffy stories from
stuffier individuals? Do you think that stale
tobacco smoke, and the idiotically reiterated click
of billiard balls, and the vacant stare of the fash
ionably brainless, and the meaningless exchange of
banalities with the intellectually aimless have any
attractions for me ? "

Mrs. Gatewood raised her pretty eyes in silence ;
Kerns returned her amused gaze rather blankly.

" Clubs ! " sniffed Gatewood. " What are clubs
but pretexts for wasting time? What mental,
what spiritual stimulus can a man expect to find
in a club? Why, Kerns, when I look back a year
and think what I was, and when I look at you and
think what you still are "

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" John," said Mrs. Gatewood softly.

"Oh, he knows it!" insisted her husband,
" don't you, Tommy? You know the sort of life
you're leading, don't you? You know what a
miserable, aimless, selfish, unambitious, pitiable
existence an unmarried man leads who lives at
his club ; don't you ? "

" Certainly," said Kerns, blinking into the smil
ing gaze of Mrs. Gatewood.

" Then why don't you marry ? "

But Kerns had risen and was making his adieus
with cheerful decision ; and Mrs. Gatewood was
laughing as she gave him her slender hand.

" Now I know a girl— ' began Gatewood ;
but his wife was still speaking to Kerns, so he
circled around them, politely suppressing the ex
citement of a sudden idea struggling for utter
ance.

Mrs. Gatewood was saying : " I do wish John
would go to his clubs occasionally. Because a man
is married is no reason for his losing touch with
his clubs "

" I know a girl," broke in Gatewood excitedly,
laying his arm on Kerns's to detain him; but
Kerns slid sideways through the door with a smile
so noncommittal that Mrs. Gatewood laughed
again and, linking her arm in her husband's, faced
122

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

partly toward him. This maneuver, and the
slightest pressure of her shoulder, obliged her
husband to begin a turning movement, so that
Kerns might reasonably make his escape in the
middle of Gatewood's sentence ; which he did with
nimble and circumspect agility.

" I — I know a " began Gatewood desper
ately, twisting his head over his shoulder, only to
hear the deadened patter of his friend's feet over
the velvet stair carpet and the subdued clang of
the front door.

" Isn't it extraordinary ? " he said to his wife.
" I've been trying to tell Tommy, every time he
comes here, about a girl I know— just the very girl
he ought to marry ; and something prevents him
from listening every time."

The attractive young matron beside him turned
her face so that her eyes were directly in line
with his.

" Did you ever know any people named Man
ners ? " she asked.
"No. Why?"

" You never knew a girl named Marjorie Man
ners, did you, John ? "

"No. What about her?"

" You never heard Mr. Kerns speak of her, did
you, dear? "

123

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" No, never. Tommy doesn't talk about girls."
" You never heard him speak of a Mrs. Stan
ley?"

" Never. Who are these two women? "
" One and the same, dear. Marjorie Man
ners married an Englishman named Stanley six
years ago. Do you happen to recollect that
Mr. Kerns took his vacation in England six
years ago? "

"Yes. What of it? "

" He crossed to Southampton with Marjorie
and her mother. He didn't know she was going
over to be married, and she didn't tell him. She
wrote to me about it, though. I was in school at
Farmington; she left school to marry — a mere
child of eighteen, undeveloped for her age, thin,
almost scrawny, with pipe-stem arms and neck,
red hair, a very sweet, full-lipped mouth, and gray
eyes that were too big for her face."

"Well," said Gatewood with a short laugh,
"what about it? You don't think Kerns fell in
love with an insect of that genus, do you? "

" Yes, I do," smiled Mrs. Gatewood.

"Nonsense. Besides, what of it? She's mar
ried, you say."

" Her husband died of enteric at Ladysmith.
She wrote me. She has never remarried. Think

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

of it, John — in all these years she has never re
married ! "

" Oh ! " said Gatewood pityingly ; " do you
really suppose that Tommy Kerns has been nurs
ing a blighted affection all these years without
ever giving me an inkling? Besides, men don't do
that ; men don't curl up and blight. Besides, men
don't take any stock in big-eyed, flat-chested, red
headed pipe stems. Why do you think that Kerns
ever cared for her ? "

" I know he did."

" How do you know it? "

u From Marjorie's letters."

" The conceited kid ! Well, of all insufferable
nerve! A man like Kerns — a man — one of the
finest, noblest characters — spiritually, intellectu
ally, physically — a practically faultless specimen
of manhood ! And a red-headed, spindle-legged—
Oh, my ! Oh, fizz ! Dearest, men don't worship a
cage of bones with an eighteen-year-old soul in it —
like a nervous canary pecking out at the world ! "

" She created a furor in England," observed his
wife, smiling.

" Oh, I dare say she might over there. Besides,
she's doubtless fattened up since then. But if you
suppose for one moment that Tommy could even

remember a girl like that "

125

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Mrs. Gatewood smiled again — the wise, sweet
smile of a young matron in whom her husband's
closest friend had confided. And after a moment
or two the wise smile became more thoughtful and
less assured ; for that very day the Tracer of Lost
Persons had called on her to inquire about a Mrs.
Stanley — a new client of his who had recently
bought a town house in East Eighty-third Street
and a country house on Long Island ; and who had
applied to him to find her fugitive butler and a
pint or two of family jewels. And, after her talk
with the Tracer of Lost Persons, Mrs. Gatewood
knew that her favorite among all her husband's
friends, Mr. Kerns, would never of his own volition
go near that same Marjorie Manners who had
flirted with him to the very perilous verge before
she told him why she was going to England —
and who, now a widow, had returned with her five-
year-old daughter to dwell once more in the city
of her ancestors.

Kerns had said very simply : " She has spoiled
women for me — all except you, Mrs. Gatewood.
And if Jack hadn't married you —

" I understand, Mr. Kerns. I'm awfully sorry."

" Don't feel sorry ; only, if you can, call Jack
off. He's been perfectly possessed to marry me
to somebody ever since he married you. And if
126

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

I told him why I don't care to consider the matter
he wouldn't believe me — he'd spend his life in try
ing to bring me around. Besides, I couldn't ever
tell him about — Marjorie Manners. Anyhow,
nothing on earth could ever induce me to look at
her again. . . . You say she is now a widow? "
" Yes, Mr. Kerns, and very beautiful."
" Never again," muttered Kerns. " Never !
She was homely enough when I asked her to marry
me. I don't want to see her ; I don't want to know
what she looks like. I'm glad she has changed so
I wouldn't recognize her, for that means the end
of it all — the final elimination of the girl I remem
ber on the ship. ... It was probably a sort of
diseased infatuation, wasn't it, Mrs. Gatewood?
Think of it ! A few days on shipboard and — and
I asked her to marry me ! ... I don't blame her,
after all, for letting me dangle. It was an excel
lent opportunity for her to study a rare species of
idiot. She was justified and I am satisfied. Only,
do call Jack off with a hint or two."

" I shall try," said young Mrs. Gatewood
thoughtfully — very thoughtfully, for already
every atom and fiber of her femininity was aroused
in behalf of these two estranged young people
whom Providence certainly had not meant to put
asunder.

CHAPTER XII

" NOTHING," said Gatewood firmly, " can make
me believe that Kerns ought not to marry some
body ; and I'm never going to let up on him until
he does. I'll bet I could fix him for life if I called
in the Tracer to help me. Isn't it extraordinary
how Kerns has kept out of it all these years ? "

The attractive girl beside him turned her face
once more so that her clear, sweet eyes were di
rectly in line with his.

" It is extraordinary," she said seriously. " I
think you ought to drop in at the club some day
when you can corner him and bully him."

" I don't want to go to the club," said the
infatuated man.

"Why, dear?"

He looked straight at her and she flushed pret
tily, while a tint of color touched his own face.
Which was very nice of him. So she didn't say
what she was going to say — that it would be per
haps better for them both if he practiced on her
an artistic absence now and then. Younger in
128

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

years, she was more mature than he. She knew.
But she was too much in love with him to salt their
ambrosia with common sense or suggest economy
in their use of the nectar bottle.

However, the gods attend to that, and she knew
they would, and she let them. So one balmy eve
ning late in May, when the new moon's ghost
floated through the upper haze, and the golden
Diana above Manhattan turned flame color, and
the electric lights began to glimmer along Fifth
Avenue, and the first faint scent of the young
summer freshened the foliage in square and park,
Kerns, stopping at the club for a moment, found
Gatewood seated at the same window they both
were wont to haunt in earlier and more flippant
days.

" Are you dining here? " inquired Kerns, push
ing the electric button with enthusiasm. " Well,
that's the first glimmer of common sense you've
betrayed since you've been married ! "

" Dining here ! " repeated Gatewood. " I
should hope not ! I am j ust going home "

" He's thoroughly cowed," commented Kerns ;
" every married man you meet at the club is just
going home." But he continued to push the
button, nevertheless.

Gatewood leaned back in his chair and gazed
129

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

about him, nose in the air. " What a life ! " he
observed virtuously. " It's all I can do to stand
it for ten minutes. You're here for the evening,
I suppose? " he added pityingly.

" No," said Kerns ; " I'm going uptown to Billy
Lee's house to get my suit case. His family are
out of town, and he is at Seabright, so he let me
camp there until the workmen finish papering my
rooms upstairs. I'm to lock up the house and
send the key to the Burglar Alarm Company
to-night. Then I go to Boston on the 12.10.
Want to come? There'll be a few doing."

" To Boston ! What for? "

" Contracts ! We can go out to Cambridge
when I've finished my business. There'll be etwas
doing."

" Can't you ever recover from being an under
graduate? " asked Gatewood, disgusted.

" Well — is there anything the matter with a
man getting next to a little amusement in life? "
asked Kerns. " Do you object to my being
happy ? "

"Amusement? You don't know how to amuse
yourself. You don't know how to be happy.
Here you sit, day after day, swallowing Mar
tinis He paused to finish his own, then re
sumed : " Here you sit, day after day, intel-
130

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

lectually stultified, unemotionally ignorant of the

higher and better life ':

" No, I don't. I've a book upstairs that tells
all about that. I read it when I have hold
overs »

" Kerns, I wish to speak seriously. I've had it
on my mind ever since I married. May I speak
frankly?"

" Well, when I come back from Boston :"

" Because I know a girl," interrupted Gate-
wood — " wait a moment, Tommy ! " — as Kerns
rose and sauntered toward the door — " you've
plenty of time to catch your train and be civil,
too ! I mean to tell you about that girl, if you'll
listen."

Kerns halted and turned upon his friend a pair
of eyes, unwinking in their placid intelligence.

" I was going to say that I know a girl," con
tinued Gatewood, " who is just the sort of a girl
you "

" No, she isn't ! " said Kerns, wheeling to re
sume his progress toward the cloakroom.

"Tom!"

Kerns halted.

" You're a fine specimen ! " commented Gate-
wood scornfully. " You spent the best years of
your life in persuading me to get married, and the
131

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

first time I try to do the same for you, you make
for the tall timber ! "

" I know it," admitted Kerns, unashamed ; " I'm
bashful. I'm a chipmunk for shyness, so I'll say
good night "

" Come back," said Gatewood coldly.

" But my suit case —

"You left it at the Lee's, didn't you? Well,
you've time enough to go there, get it, make your
train, and listen to me, too. Look here, Kerns,
have you any of the elements of decency about
you?"

" No," said Kerns, " not a single element." He
seated himself defiantly in the club window facing
Gatewood and began to button his gloves. When
he had finished he settled his new straw hat more
comfortably on his head, and, leaning forward and
balancing his malacca walking stick across his
knees, gazed at Gatewood with composure.

" Crank up ! " he said pleasantly ; " I'm going
in less than three minutes." He pushed the elec
tric knob as an afterthought, and when the gilt
buttons of the club servant glimmered through the
dusk, " Two more," he explained briskly. After
a few moments' silence, broken by the tinkle of
ice in thin glassware, Gatewood leaned forward,
menacing his friend with an impressive forefinger:

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Did you or didn't you once tell me that a
decent citizen ought to marry ? "

" I did, dear friend."

"Did I or didn't I do it?"

" In the words of the classic, you done it," ad
mitted Kerns.

" Was I or wasn't I going to the devil before I
had the sense to marry ? " persisted Gatewood.

" You was ! You was, dear friend ! " said
Kerns with enthusiasm. " You had almost went
there ere I appeared and saved you."

" Then why shouldn't you marry and let me
save you ? "

" But I'm not going to the bowwows. I'm all
right. I'm a decent citizen. I awake in the rosy
dawn with a song on my lips ; I softly whistle rag
time as I button my collar; I warble a few de
licious vagrant notes as I part my sparse hair;
I'm not murderous before breakfast; I go down
town, singing, to my daily toil ; I fish for fat
contracts in Georgia marble ; I return uptown im
mersed in a holy cairn and the evening paper. I
offer myself a cocktail ; I bow and accept ; I dress
for dinner with the aid of a rascally valet, but —
do I swear at him? No, dear friend; I say,
4 Henry, I have known far, far worse scoundrels
than you. Thank you for filling up my bay rum
133

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

with water. Bless you for wearing my imported
hosiery ! I deeply regret that my new shirts do
not fit you, Henry ! ' And my smile is a benedic
tion upon that wayward scullion. Then, dear
friend, why, why do you desire to offer me up
upon the altar of unrest? What is a little wifey
to me or I to any wifey? "

" Because," said Gatewood irritated, " you
offered me up. I'm happy and I want you to
be — you great, hulking, self-satisfied symbol of
supreme self-centered selfishness "

" Oh, splash ! " said Kerns feebly.

"Yes, you are. What do you do all day?
Grub for money and study how to make life agree
able to yourself! Every minute of the day you
are occupied in having a good time ! You've ad
mitted it! You wake up singing like a fool
canary ; you wear imported hosiery ; you've made
a soft, warm wallow for yourself at this club, and
here you bask your life away, waddling down
town to nail contracts and cut coupons, and
uptown to dinners and theaters, only to return
and sprawl here in luxury without one sin
gle thought for posterity. Your crime is race
suicide ! "

" I— my— what ! "

" Certainly. Some shirk taxes, some jury duty.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

You shirk fatherhood, and all its happy and
sacred obligations ! You deny posterity ! You
strike a blow at it ! You flout it ! You menace the
future of this Republic! Your inertia is a crime
against the people ! Instead of pro bono publico
your motto is pro bono tempo — for a good time!
And, dog Latin or not, it's the truth, and our
great President "

" Splash ! " said Kerns, rising.

" I've a good mind," said Gatewood indig
nantly, " to put the Tracer of Lost Persons on
your trail. He'd rope you and tie you in record
time!"

Kerns's smile was a provocation.

" I'll do it, too ! " added Gatewood, losing his
temper, " if you dare give me the chance."

" Seriously," inquired Kerns, delighted, " do
you think your friend, Mr. Keen, could en
compass my matrimony against my better sense
and the full enjoyment of my unimpaired mental
faculties?"

" Didn't he — fortunately for me — force me
into matrimony when I had never seen a woman
I would look at twice? Didn't you put him up
to it? Very well, why can't I put him on your
trail then? Why can't he do the same for

you?"

10 135

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Try it, dear friend," retorted Kerns cour
teously.

" Do you mean that you are not afraid? Do
you mean you give me full liberty to set him on
you? And do you realize what that means? No,
you don't ; for you haven't a notion of what that
man, Westrel Keen, can accomplish. You haven't
the slightest idea of the machinery which he con
trols with a delicacy absolutely faultless; with a
perfectly terrifying precision. Why, man, the
Pinkerton system itself has become merely a detail
in the immense complexity of the system of con
trol which the Tracer of Lost Persons exercises
over this entire continent. The urban police, the
State constabulary of Pennsylvania, the rural sys
tems of surveillance, the Secret Service, all munici
pal, provincial, State, and national organizations
form but a few strands in the universal web he has
woven. Custom officials, revenue officers, the mili
tia of the States, the army, the navy, the personnel
of every city, State, and national legislative bodies
form interdependent threads in the mesh he is
master of ; and, like a big beneficent spider, he sits
in the center of his web, able to tell by the slightest
tremor of any thread exactly where to begin
investigations ! "

Flushed, earnest, a trifle out of breath with his
136

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

own eloquence, Gatewood waved his hand to indi
cate a Ciceronian period, adding, as Kerns's in
credulous smile broadened : " Say splash again,
and I'll put you at his mercy ! "

" Ker-splash ! dear friend," observed Kerns
pleasantly. " If a man doesn't want to marry,
the army, the navy, the Senate, the white wings,
and the great White Father at Washington can't
make him."

" I tell you I want to see you happy ! " said
Gatewood angrily.

" Then gaze upon me. I'm it ! "

" You're not ! You don't know what hap
piness is."

"Don't I? Well, I don't miss it, dear
friend -"

" But if you've never had it, and therefore
don't miss it, it's time somebody found some real
happiness for you. Kerns, I simply can't bear to
see you missing so much happiness '

"Why grieve?"

" Yes, I will ! I do grieve — in spite of your
grinning skepticism and your bantering attitude.
See here, Tom ; I've started about a thousand
times to say that I knew a girl "

" Do you want to hear that splash again ? "

Gatewood grew madder. He said : " I could
137

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

easily lay your case before Mr. Keen and have
you in love and married and happy whether you
like it or not!"

" If I were not going to Boston, my son, I
should enjoy your misguided efforts," returned
Kerns blandly.

" Your going to Boston makes no difference.
The Tracer of Lost Persons doesn't care where
you go or what you do. If he starts in on your
case, Tommy, you can't escape."

"You mean he can catch me now? Here? At
my own club ? Or on the public highway ? Or on
the classic Boston train ? "

" He could. Yes, I firmly believe he could land
you before you ever saw the Boston State House.
I tell you he can work like lightning, Kerns. I
know it; I am so absolutely convinced of it that
I — I almost hesitate "

" Don't feel delicate about it," laughed Kerns ;
" you may call him on the telephone while I go
uptown and get my suit case. Perhaps I'll come
back a blushing bridegroom ; who knows ? "

" If you'll wait here I'll call him up now," said
Gatewood grimly.

" Oh, very well. Only I left my suit case in
Billy's room, and it's full of samples of Georgia
marble, and I've got to get it to the train."
138

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" You've plenty of time. If you'll wait until I
talk to Mr. Keen I'll dine with you here. Will
you?"

" What? Dine in this abandoned joint with an
outcast like me? Dear friend, are you dippy this
lovely May evening? "

" I'll do it if you'll wait. Will you? And I'll
bet you now that I'll have you in love and sprint
ing toward the altar before we meet again at this
club. Do you dare bet ? "

" The terms of the wager, kind friend ? "
drawled Kerns, delighted ; and he fished out a note
book kept for such transactions.

" Let me see," reflected Gatewood ; " you'll need
a silver service when you're married. . . . Well,
say, forks and spoons and things against an im
ported trap gun — twelve-gauge, you know."

" Done. Go and telephone to your friend, Mr.
Keen." And Kerns pushed the electric button with
a jeering laugh, and asked the servant for a
dinner card

139

CHAPTER XIII

GATEWOOD, in the telephone booth, waited impa
tiently for Mr. Keen; and after a few moments
the Tracer of Lost Persons' agreeable voice
sounded in the receiver.

" It's about Mr. Kerns," began Gatewood ; " I
want to see him happy, and the idiot won't be.
Now, Mr. Keen, you know what happiness you and
he brought to me! You know what sort of an
idle, selfish, aimless, meaningless life you saved me
from? I want you to do the same for Mr. Kerns.
I want to ask you to take up his case at once. Be
sides, I've a bet on it. Could you attend to it at
once ? "

" To-night? " asked the Tracer, laughing.

" Why — ah — well, of course, that would be im
possible. I suppose —

" My profession is to overcome the impossible,
Mr. Gatewood. Where is Mr. Kerns ? "

" Here, in this club, defying me and drinking
cocktails. He won't get married, and I want you
to make him do it."

140

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Where is he spending the evening?" asked
the Tracer, laughing again.

" Why, he's been stopping at the Danforth
Lees' in Eighty-third Street until the workmen
at the club here finish putting new paper on his
walls. The Lees are out of town. He left his
suit case at their house and he's going up to get
it and catch the 12.10 train for Boston."

" He goes from the Lenox Club to the residence
of Mr. W. Danforth Lee, East Eighty-third
Street, to get a suit case," repeated the Tracer.
"Is that correct?"

" Yes."

" What is in the suit case? "

" Samples of that new marble he's quarrying in
Georgia."

" Is it an old suit case ? Has it Mr. Kerns's
initials on it ? "

" Hold the wire ; I'll find out."

And Gatewood left the telephone and walked
into the great lounging room, where Kerns sat
twirling his stick and smiling to himself.

" All over, dear friend? " inquired Kerns, start
ing to rise. " I've, ordered a corking dinner."

" Wait ! " returned Gatewood ominously.
" What sort of a suit case is that one you're
going after ? "

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" What sort? Oh, just an ordinary "

"Is it old or new?"

"Brand new. Why?"

" Is your name on it ? "

" No ; why ? Would that thicken the plot, dear
friend? Or is the Tracer foiled, ha ! ha ! "

Gatewood turned on his heel, went back to the
telephone, and, carefully shutting the door of the
booth, took up the receiver.

" It's a new suit case, Mr. Keen," he said ; " no
initials on it — just an ordinary case."

" Mr. Lee's residence is 38 East Eighty-third
Street, between Madison and Fifth, I believe."

" Yes," replied Gatewood.

" And the family are out of town ? "

" Yes."

" Is there a caretaker there ? "

" No ; Mr. Kerns camped there. When he leaves
to-night he will send the key to the Burglar Alarm
Company."

" Very well. Please hold the wire for a while."

For ten full minutes Gatewood sat gleefully
cuddling the receiver against his ear. His faith in
Mr. Keen was naturally boundless ; he believed
that whatever the Tracer attempted could not
result in failure. He desired nothing in the world
so ardently as to see Kerns safely married. His

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

own happiness may have been the motive power
which had set him in action in behalf of his friend
— that and a certain indefinable desire to practice
a species of heavenly revenge, of grateful retalia
tion upon the prime mover and collaborateur, if
not the sole author, of his own wedded bliss. Kerns
had made him happy.

"And I'm hanged if I don't pay him off
and make him happy, too ! " muttered Gatewood.
" Does he think I'm going to sit still and see him
go tearing and gyrating about town with no re
sponsibility, no moral check to his evolutions, no
wholesome home duties to limit his acrobatics, no
wife to clip his wings ? It's time he had somebody
to report to; time he assumed moral burdens and
spiritual responsibilities. A man is just as happy
when he is certain where he is going to sleep. A
man can find just as much enjoyment in life when
he feels it his duty to account for his movements.
I don't care whether Kerns is comparatively
happy or not — there's nothing either sacred or
holy in that kind of happiness, and I'm not
going to endure the sort of life he likes any
longer ! "

Immersed in moral reflections, inspired by af
fectionate obligations to violently inflict happiness
upon Kerns, the minutes passed very agreeably
143

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

until the amused voice of the Tracer of Lost Per
sons sounded again in the receiver.
"Mr. Gatewood?"
" Yes, I am here, Mr. Keen."
" Do you really think it best for Mr. Kerns to
fall in love?"

"I do, certainly!" replied Gatewood with
emphasis.

" Because," continued the Tracer of Lost Per
sons, " I see little chance for him to do otherwise
if I take up this case. Fate itself, in the shape of
a young lady, is already on the way here in a
railroad train."

" Good ! Good ! " exclaimed Gatewood. " Don't
let him escape, Mr. Keen ! I beg of you to take
up his case ! I urge you most seriously to do so.
Mr. Kerns is now exactly what I was a year ago —
an utterly useless member of the community — a
typical bachelor who lives at his clubs, shirking
the duties of a decent citizen."

" Exactly," said the Tracer. " Do you insist
that I take this case? That I attempt to trace
and find for Mr. Kerns a sort of happiness he
himself has never found? "

" I implore you to do so, Mr. Keen."
" Exactly. If I do— if I carry it out as it has
been arranged — or rather as the case seems to

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

have already arranged itself, for it is rather a
simple matter, I fancy — I do not exactly see how
Mr. Kerns can avoid experiencing a — ahem — a
tender sentiment for the very charming young
lady whom I — and chance — have designed for him
as a partner through life."

" Excellent ! Splendid ! " shouted Gatewood
through the telephone. " Can I do anything to
aid you in this ? "

" Yes," replied the Tracer, laughing. " If you
can keep him amused for an hour or two before he
goes after his suit case it might make it easier for
me. This young lady is due to arrive in New York
at eight o'clock — a client of mine — coming to con
sult me. Her presence plays an important part in
Mr. Kerns's future. I wish you to detain Mr.
Kerns until she is ready to receive him. But of
this he must know nothing. Good-by, Mr. Gate-
wood, and would you be kind enough to present
my compliments to Mrs. Gatewood? "

" Indeed I will ! We never can forget what you
have done for us. Good-by."

" Good-by, Mr. Gatewood. Try to keep Mr.
Kerns amused for two or three hours. Of course,
if you can't do this, there are other methods I may
employ — a dozen other plans already partly out
lined in my mind; but the present plan, which
145

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

accident and coincidence make so easy, is likely
to work itself out to your entire satisfaction
within a few hours. We are already weaving a
web around Mr. Kerns ; we already have taken
exclusive charge of his future movements after
he leaves the Lenox Club. I do not believe he
can escape us, or his charming destiny. Good
night ! "

Gatewood, enchanted, hung up the receiver.
Song broke softly from his lips as he started in
search of Kerns ; his step was springy, buoyant —
a sort of subdued and modest prance.

" Now," he said to himself, " Tommy must take
out his papers. The time is ended when he can
issue letters of marque to himself, hoist sail,
square away, and go cruising all over this metrop
olis at his own sweet will."

146

CHAPTER XIV

IN the meanwhile, at the other end of the wire,
Mr. Keen, the Tracer of Lost Persons, was pre
paring to trace for Mr. Kerns, against that gen
tleman's will, the true happiness which Mr. Kerns
had never been able to find for himself.

He sat in his easy chair within the four walls
of his own office, inspecting a line of people who
stood before him on the carpet forming a single
and attentive rank. In this rank were five men:
a policeman, a cab driver, an agent of the tele
phone company, an agent of the electric company,
and a reformed burglar carrying a kit of his
trade tools.

The Tracer of Lost Persons gazed at them,
meditatively joining the tips of his thin fingers.

" I want the number on 36 East Eighty-third
Street changed to No. 38, and the number 38 re
placed by No. 36," he said to the policeman. " I
want it done at once. Get a glazier and go up
there and have it finished in an hour. Mrs. Kenna,
caretaker at No. 36, is in my pay ; she will not in
terfere. There is nobody in No. 38: Mr. Kerns
147

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

leaves there to-night and the Burglar Alarm Com
pany takes charge to-morrow."

And, turning to the others: "You," nodding
at the reformed burglar, " know your duty.
Mike ! " to the cab driver, " don't miss Mr. Kerns
at the Lenox Club. If he calls you before eleven,
drive into the park and have an accident. And
you," to the agent of the telephone company,
" will sever all telephone connection in Mrs. Stan
ley's house ; and you," to the official of the electric
company, " will see that the circuit in Mrs. Stan
ley's house is cut so that no electric light may be
lighted and no electric bell sound."

The Tracer of Lost Persons stroked his gray
mustache thoughtfully. "And that," he ended,
" will do, I think. Good night."

He rose and stood by the door as the policeman
headed the solemn file which marched out to their
duty ; then he looked at his watch, and, as it was
already a few minutes after eight, he called up
No. 36 East Eighty-third Street, and in a moment
more had Mrs. Stanley on the wire.

" Good evening," he said pleasantly. " I sup
pose you have just arrived from Rosylyn. I may
be a little late — I may be very late, in fact, so I
called you up to say so. And I wished to say
another thing; to ask you whether your servants
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THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

could recollect ever having seen a young man
about the place, a rather attractive young man
with excellent address and manners, five feet eleven
inches, slim but well built, dark hair, dark eyes,
and dark mustache, offering samples of Georgia
marble for sale."

" Really, Mr, Keen," replied a silvery voice, " I
have heard them say nothing about such an in
dividual. If you will hold the wire I will ask my
maid." And, after a pause : " No, Mr. Keen, my
maid cannot remember any such person. Do you
think he was a confederate of that wretched butler
of mine ? "

" I am scarcely prepared to say that ; in fact,"
added Mr. Keen, " I haven't the slightest idea that
this young man could have been concerned in any
thing of that sort. Only, if you should ever by
any chance see such a man, detain him if possible
until you can communicate with me; detain him
by any pretext, by ruse, by force if you can, only
detain him until I can get there. Will you do
this?"

" Certainly, Mr. Keen, if I can. Please describe
him again ? "

Mr. Keen did so minutely.

" You say he sells Georgia marble by samples,
which he carries in a suit case ? "
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THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" He says that he has samples of Georgia mar
ble in his suit case," replied the Tracer cautiously.
" It might be well, if possible, to see what he has
in his suit case."

" I will warn the servants as soon as I return to
Rosylyn. When may I expect you this evening,
Mr. Keen?"

" It is impossible to say, Mrs. Stanley. If I
am not there by midnight I shall try to call next
morning."

So they exchanged civil adieus ; the Tracer
hung up his receiver and leaned back in his chair,
smiling to himself.

" Curious," he said, " that chance should have
sent that pretty woman to me at such a time. . . .
Kerns is a fine fellow, every inch of him. It hit
him hard when he crossed with her to Southamp
ton six years ago ; it hit him harder when she
married that Englishman. I don't wonder he
never cared to marry after that brief week of her
society ; for she is just about the most charming
woman I have ever met — red hair and all. . . .
And if quick action is what is required, it's well to
break the ice between them at once with a dreadful
misunderstanding."

150

CHAPTER XV

THE dinner that Kerns had planned for himself
and Gatewood was an ingenious one, cunningly
contrived to discontent Gatewood with home fare
and lure him by its seductive quality into frequent
revisits to the club which was responsible for such
delectable wines and viands.

A genial glow already enveloped Gatewood and
pleasantly suffused Kerns. From time to time
they held some rare vintage aloft, squinting
through the crystal-imprisoned crimson with deep
content.

" Not that my word is necessarily the last word
concerning Burgundy," said Gatewood modestly ;
" but I venture to doubt that any club in America
can match this bottle, Kerns."

" Now, Jack," wheedled Kerns, " isn't it pleas
ant to dine here once in a while ? Be frank, man !
Look about at the other tables — at all the pleas
ant, familiar faces — the same fine fellows, bless
'em — the same smoky old ceiling, the same bum
portraits of dead governors, the same old stag
11 151

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

heads on the wall. Now, Jack, isn't it mighty
pleasant, after all? Be a gentleman and ad
mit it ! "

"Y-yes," confessed Gatewood, "it's all right
for me once in a while, because I know that I am
presently going back to my own home — a jolly
lamplit room and the prettiest girl in Manhattan
curled up in an armchair "

" You're fortunate," said Kerns shortly. And
for the first time there remained no lurking mock
ery in his voice; for the first time his retort was
tinged with bitterness. But the next instant his
eyes glimmered with the same gay malice, and the
unbelieving smile twitched at his clean-cut lips,
and he raised his hand, touching the short ends of
his mustache with that careless, amused cynicism
which rather became him.

" All that you picture so entrancingly is for
bidden the true believer," he said; and began to
repeat :

" ' O weaver ! weave the flowers of Feraghan
Into the fabric that thy birth began ;
Iris, narcissus, tulips cloud-band tied,
These thou shalt picture for the eye of Man ;
Henna, Herati, and the Jhelums tide
In Sarraband and Saruk be thy guide,
And the red dye of Ispahan beside
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THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

The checkered Chinese fret of ancient gold ;
— So heed the ban, old as the law is old,
Nor weave into thy warp the laughing face,
Nor limb, nor body, nor one line of grace,
Nor hint, nor tint, nor any veiled device
Of Woman who is barred from Paradise ! ' '

" A nice sentiment ! " said Gatewood hotly.

" Can't help it ; you see I'm forbidden to mon
key with the eternal looms or weave the forbidden
into the pattern of my life."

Gatewood sat silent for a moment, then looked
up at Kerns with something so closely akin to a
grin that his friend became interested in its
scarcely veiled significance, and grinned in reply.

" So you really expect that your friend, Mr.
Keen, is going to marry me to somebody, nolens
volens? " asked Kerns.

" I do. That's what I dream of, Tommy."

" My poor friend, dream on ! "

" I am. Tommy, you're lost ! I mean you're
as good as married now ! "

"You think so?"

"I know it! There you sit, savoring your
Burgundy, idling over a cigar, happy, care free,
fancy free, at liberty, as you believe, to roam off
anywhere at any time and continue the eternal
hunt for pleasure ! That's what you think ! Ha !
153

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Tommy, I know better! That's not the sort of
man 7 see sitting on the same chair where you are
now sprawling in such content! I see a doomed
man, already in the shadow of the altar, wasting
his time unsuspiciously while Chance comes whirl
ing into the city behind a Long Island locomotive,
and Fate, the footman, sits outside ready to fol
low him, and Destiny awaits him no matter what
he does, what he desires, where he goes, wherever
he turns to-night! Destiny awaits him at his
journey's end! "

" Very fine," said Kerns admiringly. " Too
bad it's due to the Burgundy."

" Never mind what my eloquence is due to," re
torted Gatewood, " the fact remains that this is
probably your last bachelor dinner. Kerns, old
fellow ! Here's to her ! Bless her ! I — I wish sin
cerely that we knew who she is and where to send
those roses. Anyway, here's to the bride ! "

He stood up very gravely and drank the toast,
then, reseating himself, tapped the empty glass
gently against the table's edge until it broke.

4 You are certainly doing your part well," said
Kerns admiringly. Then he swallowed the re
mainder of his Burgundy and looked up at the
club clock.

"Eleven," he said with regret. "I've about
154

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

time to go to Eighty-third Street, get my suit
case, and catch my train at 125th Street." To a
servant he said, " Call a hansom," then rose and
sauntered downstairs to the cloakroom, where
presently both men stood, hatted and 'gloved,
swinging their sticks.

" That was a fool bet you made," began Kerns ;
" Fll release you, Jack."

" Sorry, but I must insist on holding you," re
plied Gatewood, laughing. " You're going to
your doom. Come on ! I'll see you as far as the
cab door."

They walked out, and Kerns gave the cabby the
street and number and entered the hansom.

" Now," said Gatewood, " you're in for it !
You're done for! You can't help yourself! I've
won my twelve-gauge trap gun already, and I'll
have to set you up in table silver, anyway, so
it's an even break. You're all in, Tommy! The
Tracer is on your trail ! "

In the beginning of a flippant retort Kerns ex
perienced a curious sensation of hesitation. Some
thing in Gatewood's earnestness, in his jeering
assurance and delighted certainty, made him, for
one moment, feel doubtful, even uncomfortable.

" What nonsense you talk," he said, recovering
his equanimity. " Nothing on earth can prevent
155

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

me driving to 38 East Eighty-third Street, get
ting my luggage, arfti taking the Boston express.
Your Tracer doesn't intend to stop my hansom
and drag me into a cave, does he? You haven't
put knock-outs into that Burgundy, have you?
Then what in the dickens are you laughing at ? "

But Gatewood, on the sidewalk under the lamp
light, was still laughing as Kerns drove away, for
he had recognized in the cab driver a man he had
seen in Mr. Kern's office, and he knew that the
Tracer of Lost Persons had Kerns already well in
hand.

The hansom drove on through the summer
darkness between rows of electric globes drooping
like huge white moon flowers from their foliated
bronze stalks, on up the splendid avenue, past the
great brilliantly illuminated hotels, past the white
cathedral, past clubs and churches and the palaces
of the wealthy ; on, on along the park wall edged
by its double rows of elms under which shadowy
forms moved — lovers strolling in couples.

" Pooh," sniffed Kerns, " the whole world has
gone love mad, and I'm the only sane man left."

But he leaned back in his cab and fell a-thinking

of a thin girl with red hair and great gray eyes

— a thin, frail creature, scarcely more than a

child, who had held him for a week in a strange

156

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

sorcery only to release him with a frightened
smile, leaving her indelible impression upon his
life forever.

And, thinking, he looked up, realizing that the
cab had stopped in East Eighty-third Street
before one of a line of brownstone houses, all ex
ternally alike.

Then he leaned out and saw that the house
number was thirty-eight. That was the number
of the Lees' house ; he descended, bade the cabman
await him, and, producing his latch key, started
up the steps, whistling gayly.

But he didn't require his key, for, as he reached
the front door, he found, to his surprise and con
cern, that it swung partly open — just a mere
crack.

" The mischief ! " he muttered ; " could I have
failed to close it? Could anybody have seen it and
crept in ? "

He entered the hallway hastily and pressed the
electric knob. No light appeared in the sconces.

" What the deuce ! " he murmured ; " something
wrong with the switch ! " And he hurriedly
lighted a match and peered into the darkness. By
the vague glimmer of the burning match he could
distinguish nothing. He listened intently, tried
the electric switch again without success. The
157

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

match burned his fingers and he dropped it, watch
ing the last red spark die out in the darkness.

Something about the shadowy hallway seemed
unfamiliar; he went to the door, stepped out on
the stoop, and looked up at the number on the
transom. It was thirty-eight ; no doubt about the
house. Hesitating, he glanced around to see that
his hansom was still there. It had disappeared.

" What an idiot that cabman is ! " he exclaimed,
intensely annoyed at the prospect of lugging his
heavy suit case to a Madison Avenue car and
traveling with it to Harlem.

He looked up and down the dimly lighted
street; east, an electric car glided down Madison
Avenue; west, the lights of Fifth Avenue glim
mered against the dark foliage of the Park. He
stood a moment, angry at the desertion of his cab
man, then turned and reentered the dark hall,
closing the door behind him.

Up the staircase he felt his way to the first
landing, and, lighting a match, looked for the
electric button.

" Am I crazy, or was there no electric button
in this hall? " he thought. The match burned low ;
he had to drop it. Perplexed, he struck another
match and opened the door leading into the front
room, and stood on the threshold a moment, look-
158

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

ing about him at the linen-shrouded furniture and
pictures. This front room, closed for the summer,
he had not before entered, but he stepped in now,
poking about for any possible intruder, lighting
match after match.

" I suppose I ought to go over this confounded
house inch by inch," he murmured. " What could
have possessed me to leave the front door ajar
this morning? "

For an instant he thought that perhaps Mrs.
Nolan, the woman who came in the morning to
make his bed, might have left the door open, but
he knew that couldn't be so, because he always
waited for her to finish her work and leave before
he went out. So either he must have left the door
open, or some marauder had visited the house —
was perhaps at that moment in the house! And
it was his duty to find out.

" I'd better be about it, too," he thought sav
agely, " or I'll never make my train."

He struck his last match, looked around, and,
seeing gas jets among the clustered electric bulbs
of the sconces, tried to light one and succeeded.

He had left his suit case in the passageway be
tween the front and rear rooms, and now, cau
tiously, stick in hand, he turned toward the dim
corridor leading to the bedroom. There was his
159

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

suit case, anyway ! He picked it up and started
to push open the door of the rear room ; but at the
same time, and before he could lay his hand on the
knob, the door before him opened suddenly in a
flood of light/and a woman stood there, dark
against the gas-lit glare, a pistol waveringly ex
tended in the general direction of his head.

160

CHAPTER XVI

«GooD heavens!" he said, appalled, and
dropped his suit case with a crash.

«W-what are you d-doing ' She con
trolled her voice and the wavering weapon with an
effort. " What are you doing in this house? "

" Doing? In this house? " he repeated, his eyes
protruding in the direction of the unsteady pistol
muzzle. " What are you doing in this house-— if
you don't mind saying ! "

« i_l m-must ask you to put up your hands,"
she said. " If you move I shall certainly s-shoot
off this pistol."

« It will go off, anyway, if you handle it like
that ! " he said, exasperated. " What do you mean
by pointing it at me ? "

« I mean to fire it off in a few moments if you
don't raise your hands above your head ! '

He looked at the pistol; it was new and shiny;
he looked at the athletic young figure silhouetted
against the brilliant light.

" Well, if you make a point of it, of course."
161

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

He slowly held up both hands, higher, then
higher still. "Upon my word!" he breathed.
" Held up by a woman ! " And he said aloud, bit
terly: "No doubt you have assistance close at
hand."

" No doubt," she said coolly. " What have you
been packing into that valise? "

"P-packing into what? Oh, into that suit
case? That is my suit case."

" Of course it is," she said quietly, " but what
have you inside it? "

" Nothing you or your friends would care for,"
he said meaningly.

" I must be the judge of that," she retorted.
" Please open that suit case."

" How can I if my hands are in the air? " he
expostulated, now intensely interested in the nov
elty of being held up by this graceful and
vaguely pretty silhouette.

' You may lower your arms to unpack the suit
case," she said.

" I — I had rather not if you are going to keep
me covered with your pistol."

" Of course I shall keep you covered. Unpack
your booty at once ! "
« My— what ? "
" Booty."

162

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Madam, do you take me for a thief? Have
you, by chance, entered the wrong house? I — I
cannot reconcile your voice with what I am forced
to consider you — a housebreaker "

" We will discuss that later. Unpack that
bag ! " she insisted.

« But — but there is nothing in it except sam
ples of marble "

" What ! " she exclaimed nervously. " What
did you say ? Samples of marble ? "

" Marble, madam ! Georgia marble ! "

" Oh ! So you are the young man who goes
about pretending to peddle Georgia marble from
samples! Are you? The famous marble man I
have heard of."

" I? Madam, I don't know what you mean ! "

" Come ! she said scornfully ; " let me see the
contents of that suit case. I — I am not afraid of
you; I am not a bit afraid of you. And I shall
catch your accomplice, too."

" Madam, you speak like an honest woman !
You must have managed to enter the wrong
house. This is number thirty-eight, where I live."

" It is number thirty-six ; my house ! "

" But I know it is number thirty-eight ; Mr.
Lee's house," he protested hopefully. " This is
some dreadful mistake."

163

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Mr. Lee's house is next door," she said. " Do
you not suppose I know my own house? Besides,
I have been warned against a plausible young
man who pretends he has Georgia marble to
sell "

' There is a dreadful mistake somewhere," he in
sisted. " Please p-p-put up your p-pistol and aid
me to solve it. I am no robber, madam. I thought
at first that you were. I'm living in Mr. Lee's
house, No. 38 East Eighty-third Street, and I've
looked carefully at the number over the door of
this house and the number is thirty-eight, and the
street is East Eighty-third. So I naturally con
clude that I am in Mr. Lee's house."

'6 Your arguments and your conclusions are
very plausible," she said, "but, fortunately for
me, I have been expressly warned against a young
man of your description. You are the marble
man ! "

" It's a mistake ! A very dreadful one."
' Then how did you enter this house? "
" I have a key — I mean I found the front door
unlatched. Please don't misunderstand me; I
know it sounds unconvincing, but I really have a
key to number thirty-eight."

He attempted to reach for his pocket and the
pistol glittered in his face.
164

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Won't you let me prove my innocence? " he
asked.

" You can't prove it by showing me a key. Be
sides, it's probably a weapon. Anyhow, if, as you
pretend, you have managed to get into the wrong
house, why did you bring that suit case up here ? ''
" It was here. It's mine. I left it here in this
passageway."

" In my house ? " she asked incredulously.
"In number thirty-eight; that is all I know.
I'll open the suit case if you will let me. I have
already described its contents. If it has samples
of marble in it you must be convinced ! "

" It will convince me that it is your valise. But
what of that? I know it is yours already," she
said defiantly. " I know, at least, that you are the
marble man — if nothing worse ! "

" But malefactors don't go about carrying
samples of Georgia marble," he protested, drop
ping on one knee under the muzzle of her revolver
and tugging at the straps and buckles. In a sec
ond or two he threw open the case — and the sight
of the contents staggered him. For there, thrown
in pellmell among small square blocks of polished
marble was a complete kit of burglar's tools, in
cluding also a mask, a dark lantern, and a black
jack.

165

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" What-w-w-what on earth is this?" he stam
mered. " These things don't belong to me. I
won't have them ! I don't want them. Who put
them into my suit case? How the deuce "

"You are the marble man!" she said with
a shudder. " Your crimes are known ! Your
wretched accomplice will be caught ! You are the
marble man — or something worse ! "

Kneeling there, aghast, bewildered, he passed
his hand across his eyes as though to clear them
from some terrible vision. But the suit case was
still there with its incriminating contents when he
looked again.

" I am sorry for you," she said tremulously.
" I — if it were not for the marble — I would let
you go. But you are the marble man ! "

;< Yes, and I'm probably a madman, too. I
don't know what I am ! I don't know what is hap
pening to me. I ought to be going, that is all I
know "

" I cannot let you go."

" But I must ! I've got to catch a train."

The feebleness of his excuse chilled her pity.

" I shall not let you go," she said, resting the

hand which held the pistol on her hip, but keeping

him covered. " I know you came to rob my house ;

I know you are a thoroughly bad and depraved

166

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

young man, but for all that I could find it in my
heart to let you go if you were not also the marble

man! "

" What on earth is the marble man? " he asked,

exasperated.

" I don't know. I have been earnestly warned
against him. Probably he is a relative of my

butler "

" I'm not a relative of anybody's butler ! "
" You say you are not. How do I know? I-
I will make you an offer. I will give you one last
chance. If you will return to me the jewels that

my butler took "

"Good heavens, madam! Do you really take
me for a professional burglar? "

"How can I help it?" she said indignantly.
"Look at your suit case full of lanterns and
masks — full of marble, too ! "

Speechless, he stared at the burglar's kit.

"I am sorry " Her voice had altered

again to a tremulous sweetness. " I can't help
feeling sorry for you. You do not seem to be
hardened; your voice and manner are not charac
teristically criminal. I— I can't see your face
very clearly, but it does not seem to be a brutally

inhuman face "

An awful desire to laugh seized Kerns ; he strug-
12 167

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

gled against it ; hysteria lay that way ; and he cov
ered his face with both hands and pinched himself.

She probably mistook the action for the emo
tion of shame and despair born of bitter grief;
perhaps of terror of the law. It frightened her
a little, but pity dominated. She could scarcely
endure to do what she must do.

"This is dreadful, dreadful!" she faltered.
" If you only would give me back my jewels

Sounds, hastily smothered, escaped him. She
believed them to be groans, and it made her
slightly faint.

" I — I've simply got to telephone for the po
lice," she said pityingly. " I must ask you to sit
down there and wait — there is a chair. Sit there
— and please don't move, for I — this has unnerved
me — I am not accustomed to doing cruel things;
and if vou should move too quickly or attempt to
run away I feel certain that this pistol would
explode."

" Are you going to telephone? " he asked.

" Yes, I am."

She backed away, cautiously, pistol menacing
him, reached for the receiver, and waited for Cen
tral. She waited a long time before she realized
that the telephone as well as the electric light was
out of commission.

168

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Did you cut all these wires ? " she demanded
angrily.

"I? What wires?"

She reached out and pressed the electric button
which should have rung a bell in her maid's bed
room on the top floor. She kept her finger on the
button for ten minutes. It was useless.

" You laid deliberate plans to rob this house,"
she said, her cheeks pink with indignation. " I am
not a bit sorry for you. I shall not let you go ! I
shall sit here until somebody comes to my assist
ance, if I have to sit here for weeks and weeks ! "

" If you'd let me telephone to my club " he

began.

" Your club ! You are very plausible. You
didn't offer to call up any club until you found
that the telephone was not working ! "

He thought a moment. " I don't suppose you
would trust me to go out and get a policeman? "

" Certainly not."

" Or go into the front room and open a window
and summon some passer-by ? "

" How do I know you haven't confederates
waiting outside? "

" That's true," he said seriously.

There was a silence. Her nerves seemed to
trouble her, for she began to pace to and fro in
169

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

front of the passageway where he sat comfortably
on his chair, arms folded, one knee dropped over
the other.

The light being behind her he could not as yet
distinguish her features very clearly. Her figure
was youthful, slender, yet beautifully rounded;
her head charming in contour. He watched her
restlessly walking on the floor, small hand clutch
ing the pistol resting on her hip.

The ruddy burnished glimmer on the edges of
her hair he supposed, at first, was caused by the
strong light behind her.

" This is atrocious ! " she murmured, halting to
confront him. " How dared you sever every
electric connection in my house ? "

As she spoke she stepped backward a pace or
two, resting herself for a moment against the
footboard of the bed — full in the gaslight. And
he saw her face.

For a moment he studied her ; an immense wave
of incredulity swept over him — of wild unbelief,
slowly changing to the astonishment of dawning
conviction. Astounded, silent, he stared at her
from his shadowy corner; and after a while his
pulses began to throb and throb and hammer, and
the clamoring confusion of his senses seemed to
deafen him.

170

^

" ' This is atrocious ! ' she murmured, halting to
confront him."

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

She rested a moment or two against the foot
board of the bed, her big gray eyes fixed on his
vague and shadowy form.

" This won't do," she said.

" No," he said, " it won't do."

He spoke very quietJy, very gently. She de
tected the alteration in his voice and started
slightly, as though the distant echo of a familiar
voice had sounded.

" What did you say ? " she asked, coming
nearer, pistol glittering in advance.

" I said ' It won't do.' I don't know what I
meant by it. If I meant anything I was wrong.
It will do. The situation is perfectly agreeable
to me."

" Insolence will not help you," she said sharply.
And under the sharpness he detected the slight
est quaver of a new alarm.

" I am going to free myself," he said coolly.

"If you move I shall certainly shoot ! " she
retorted.

" I am going to move — but only my lips. I
have only to move my lips to free myself."

'" I should scarcely advise you to trust to your
eloquence. I have been duly warned, you see."

" Who warned you ? " he asked curiously. And,
as she disdained to reply : " Never mind. We can
171

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

clear that up later. Now let me ask you some
thing."

' You are scarcely in a position to asl^ ques
tions," she said.

" May I not speak to you ? "
" Is it necessary ? "

He thought a moment. " No, not necessary.
Nothing is in this life, you know. I thought dif
ferently once. Once — when I was younger — six
years younger — I thought happiness was neces
sary. I found that a man might live without it."

She stood gazing at him through the shadows,
pistol on hip.

" What do you mean ? " she asked.

" I mean that happiness is not necessary to life.
Life goes on all the same. My life has continued
for six years without that happiness which some
believe to be essential."

After a silence she said : " I can tell by the way
you speak that you are well born. I — I dread to
do what I simply must do."

He, too, sat silent a long time — long enough
for an utterly perverse and whimsical humor to
take complete possession of him.

" Won't you let me go — this time? " he pleaded.

" I cannot."

" You had better let me go while you can," he
172

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

said, " because, perhaps, you may find it difficult
to get rid of me later."

'Affronted, she shrank back from the doorway
and stood in the center of her room, angry, dis
dainful, beautiful, under the ruddy glory of her
lustrous hair.

His perverse mood changed, too ; he leaned for
ward, studying her minutely — the splendid gray
eyes, the delicate mouth and nose, the full, sweet
lips, the witchery of wrist and hand, and the flow
ing, rounded outline of limb and body under the
pretty gown. Could this be she ? This lovely,
mature woman, wearing scarcely a trace of the
young girl he had never forgotten — scarcely a
trace save in the beauty of her eyes and hair — save
in the full, red mouth, sweet and sensitive even in
its sudden sullenness?

" Once," he said, and his voice sounded to him
like voices heard in dreams — " once, years and
years ago, there was a steamer, and a man and a
young girl on board. Do you mind my telling
you about it? "

She stood leaning against the footboard of the
bed, not even deigning to raise her eyes in reply.
So he made the slightest stir in his chair ; and then
she looked up quickly enough, pistol poised.

" The steamer," said Kerns slowly, " was com-
173

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

ing into Southampton — six years ago. On deck
these two people stood — a man of twenty-eight, a
girl of eighteen— six years ago. The name of the
steamer was the Carnatic. Did you ever hear of
that ship?"

She was looking at him attentively. He waited
for her reply ; she made none ; and he went on.

6 The man had asked the girl something — I
don't know what — I don't know why her gray eyes
filled with tears. Perhaps it was because she could
not do what the man asked her to do. It may have
been to love him ; it may have been that he was ask
ing her to marry him and that she couldn't. Per
haps that is why there were tears in her eyes —
because she may have been sorry to cause him the
pain of refusal — sorry, perhaps, perhaps a little
guilty. Because she must have seen that he was
falling in love with her, and she — she let him —
knowing all the time that she was to marry an
other man. Did you ever hear of that man
before?"

She had straightened up, quivering, wide eyed,
lips parted. He rose and walked slowly into her
room, confronting her under the full glare of
light.

Her pistol fell clattering to the floor. It did
not explode because it was not loaded.
174

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Now," he said unsteadily, " will you give me
my freedom? I have waited for it — not minutes
— but years — six years. I ask it now — the free
dom I enjoyed before I ever saw you. Can you
give it back to me? Can you restore to me a ca
pacity for happiness? Can you give me a heart
to love with — love some woman, as other men
love? Is it very much I ask of you — to give me
a chance in life — the chance I had before I ever
saw you? "

Her big gray eyes seemed fascinated ; he looked
deep into them, smiling; and she turned white.

" Will you give me what I ask ? " he said, still
smiling.

She strove to speak ; she could not, but her eyes
never faltered. Suddenly the color flooded her
neck and cheeks to the hair, and the quick tears
glimmered.

" I — I did not understand ; I was too young to
be cruel," she faltered. " How could I know what
I was doing? Or what — what you did? "

"I? To you?"

:<Y-yes. Did you think that I escaped heart
free? Do you realize what my punishment was —
to — to marry — and remember! If I was too
young, too inexperienced to know what I was
doing, I was not too young to suffer for it ! "
175

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" You mean ' He strove to control his

voice, but the sweet, fearless gray eyes met his;
the old flame leaped in his veins. He reached out
to steady himself and his hand touched hers — that
soft, white hand that had held him all these years
in the hollow of its palm.

" Did you ever love me? " he demanded.

Her eyes, wet with tears, met his straight as
the starry gaze of a child.

" Yes," she said.

His hand tightened over hers; she swayed a
moment, quivering from head to foot ; then draw
ing a quick, sobbing breath, closed her eyes, im
prisoned in his arms; and, after a long while,
aroused, she looked up at him, her divine eyes
unclosing dreamily.

" Somebody is hammering at the front door,"
he breathed. " Listen ! "

" I hear. I believe it must be the Tracer of
Lost Persons."

"What?"

" Only a Mr. Keen."

" O Lord ! " said Kerns faintly, and covered his
face with her fragrant hands.

Very tenderly, very gravely, she drew her hands
away, and, laying them on his shoulders, looked
up at him.

176

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" You — you know what there is in your suit
case," she faltered ; " are you a burglar, dear ? "

" Ask the Tracer of Lost Persons," said Kerns
gently, " what sort of a criminal I am ! "

They stood together* for one blissful moment
listening to the loud knocking below, then, hand
in hand, they descended the dark stairway to
admit the Tracer of Lost Persons.

177

CHAPTER XVII

ON the thirteenth day of March, 1906, Kerns
received the following cable from an old friend:

" Is there anybody in New York who can find two
criminals for me ? I don't want to call in the police.

"J. T. BURKE."

To which Kerns replied promptly:

"Wire Keen, Tracer of Lost Persons, N. Y."

And a day or two later, being on his honeymoon,
he forgot all about his old friend Jack Burke.

On the fifteenth day of March, 1906, Mr. Keen,
Tracer of Lost Persons, received the following
cablegram from Alexandria, Egypt:

" Keen, Tracer, New York : — Locate Joram Smiles,
forty, stout, lame, red hair, ragged red mustache, cast
in left eye, pallid skin ; carries one crutch ; supposed
to have arrived in America per S. S. Scythian Queen,
with man known as Emanuel Gandon, swarthy, short,
fat, light bluish eyes, Eurasian type.

" I will call on you at your office as soon as my steamer,
Empress of Babylon, arrives. If you discover my men,
178

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

keep them under surveillance, but on no account call in
police. Spare no expense. Dundas, Gray & Co. are
my bankers and reference.

" JOHN TEMPLETON BURKE."

On Monda} April 2d, a few minutes after eight
o'clock in the morning, the card of Mr. John
Templeton Burke was brought to Mr. Keen,
Tracer of Lost Persons, and a moment later a
well-built, wiry, sun-scorched young man was
ushered into Mr. Keen's private office by a stenog
rapher prepared to take minutes of the interview.

The first thing that the Tracer of Lost Per
sons noted in his visitor was his mouth; the next
his eyes. Both were unmistakably good — the eyes
which his Creator had given him looked people
squarely in the face at every word; the mouth,
which a man's own character fashions agreeably
or mars, was pleasant, but firm when the trace of
the smile lurking in the corners died out.

There were dozens of other external character
istics which Mr. Keen always looked for in his
clients; and now the rapid exchange of prelim
inary glances appeared to satisfy both men, for
they advanced toward each other and exchanged
a formal hand clasp.

"Have you any news for me?" asked Burke.

" I have," said the Tracer. " There are cigars
179

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

on the table beside you — matches in that silver
case. No, I never smoke ; but I like the aroma —
and I like to watch men smoke. Do you know,
Mr. Burke, that no two men smoke in the same
fashion? There is as much character in the man
ner of holding a cigar as there is difference in
the technic of artists."

Burke nodded, amused, but, catching sight of
the busy stenographer, his bronzed features be
came serious, and he looked at Mr. Keen inquir
ingly.

" It is my custom," said the Tracer. " Do you
object to my stenographer? "

Burke looked at the slim young girl in her
black gown and white collar and cuffs. Then,
very simply, he asked her pardon for objecting
to her presence, but said that he could not discuss
his case if she remained. So she rose, with a
humorous glance at Mr. Keen; and the two men
stood up until she had vanished, then reseated
themselves vis-a-vis. Mr. Keen calmly dropped
his elbow on the concealed button which prepared
a hidden phonograph for the reception of every
word that passed between them.

" What news have you for me, Mr. Keen ? "
asked the younger man with that same directness
which the Tracer had already been prepared for,
180

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

and which only corroborated the frankness of
eyes and voice.

" My news is brief," he said. " I have both
your men under observation."

'* Already ? " exclaimed Burke, plainly unpre
pared. " Do you actually mean that I can see
these men whenever I desire to do so? Are these
scoundrels in this town — within pistol shot ? "

His youthful face hardened as he snapped out
his last word, like the crack of a whip.

" I don't know how far your pistol carries,"
said Mr. Keen. " Do you wish to swear out a
warrant ? "

" No, I do not. I merely wish their addresses.
You have not used the police in this matter, have
you, Mr. Keen? "

" No. Your cable was explicit," said the
Tracer. " Had you permitted me to use the
police it would have been much less expensive
for you."

" I can't help that," said the young man.
" Besides, in a matter of this sort, a man cannot
decently consider expense."

"A matter of what sort?" asked the Tracer
blandly.

" Of t his sort."

" Oh ! Yet even now I do not understand.
181

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

You must remember, Mr. Burke, that you have
not told me anything concerning the reasons for
your quest of these two men, Joram Smiles and
Emanuel Gandon. Besides, this is the first time
you have mentioned pistol range."

Burke, smoking steadily, looked at the Tracer
through the blue fog of his cigar.

" No," he said, " I have not told you anything
about them."

Mr. Keen waited a moment; then, smiling
quietly to himself, he wrote down the present ad
dresses of Joram Smiles and Emanuel Gandon,
and, tearing off the leaf, handed it to the younger
man, saying: "I omit the pistol range, Mr.
Burke."

" I am very grateful to you," said Burke.
" The efficiency of your system is too famous for
me to venture to praise it. All I can say is
* Thank you ' ; all I can do in gratitude is to write
my check — if you will be kind enough to suggest
the figures."

" Are you sure that my services are ended? "

" Thank you, quite sure."

So the Tracer of Lost Persons named the fig
ures, and his client produced a check book and
filled in a check for the amount. This was pre
sented and received with pleasant formality.
182

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Burke rose, prepared to take his leave, but the
Tracer was apparently busy with the combination
lock of a safe, and the young man lingered a
moment to make his adieus.

As he stood waiting for the Tracer to turn
around he studied the writing on the sheet of
paper which he held toward the light:

Joram Smiles, no profession, 613 West 24th Street.
Emanuel Gandon, no profession, same address.
Very dangerous men.

It occurred to him that these three lines of
pencil-writing had cost him a thousand dollars —
and at the same instant he flushed with shame at
the idea of measuring the money value of anything
in such a quest as this.

And yet — and yet he had already spent a great
deal of money in his brief quest, and — was he
any nearer the goal — even with the penciled ad
dresses of these two men in his possession? Even
with these men almost within pistol shot !

Pondering there, immersed in frowning retro
spection, the room, the Tracer, the city seemed
to fade from his view. He saw the red sand blow
ing in the desert; he heard the sickly squealing
of camels at the El Teb Wells; he saw the sun
13 183

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

strike fire from the rippling waters of Sai's; he
saw the plain, and the ruins high above it ; and
the odor of the Long Bazaar smote him like a blow,
and he heard the far call to prayer from the min
arets of Sa-el-Hagar, once Sa'is, the mysterious
— Sai's of the million lanterns, Sai's of that
splendid festival where the Great Triad's wor
ship swayed dynasty after dynasty, and where,
through the hot centuries, Isis, veiled, impassive,
looked out upon the hundredth king of kings,
Meris, the Builder of Gardens, dragged dead at
the chariot of Upper and Lower Egypt.

Slowly the visions faded; into his remote eyes
crept the consciousness of the twentieth century
again ; he heard the river whistles blowing, and
the far dissonance of the streets — that iron un
dertone vibrating through the metropolis of the
West from river to river and from the Palisades
to the sea.

His gaze wandered about the room, from tele
phone desk to bookcase, from the table to the huge
steel safe, door ajar, swung outward like the pol
ished breech of a twelve-inch gun.

Then his vacant eyes met the eyes of the Tracer

of Lost Persons, almost helplessly. And for the

first time the full significance of this quest he had

undertaken came over him like despair — this

184

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

strange, hopeless, fantastic quest, blindly, sav
agely pursued from the sand wastes of Sa'is to
the wastes of this vast arid city of iron and ma
sonry, ringing to the sky with the menacing
clamor of its five monstrous boroughs.

Curiously weary of a sudden, he sat down, rest
ing his head on one hand. The Tracer watched
him, bent partly over his desk. From moment to
moment he tore minute pieces from the blotter,
or drew imaginary circles and arabesques on his
pad with an inkless pen.

" Perhaps I could help you, after all — if you'd
let me try," he said quietly.

" Dou you mean — me? " asked Burke, without
raising his head.

" If you like — yes, you — or any man in trouble
— in perplexity — in the uncertain deductions
which arise from an attempt at self -analysis."

" It is true ; I am trying to analyze myself. I
believe that I don't know how. All has been mere
impulse — so far. No, I don't know how to ana
lyze it all."

" I do," said the Tracer.

Burke raised his level, unbelieving eyes.

" You are in love," said the Tracer.

After a long time Burke looked up again.
"Do you think so?"

185

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

"Yes. Can I help you?" asked the Tracer
pleasantly.

The young man sat silent, frowning into space ;
then:

" I tell you plainly enough that I have come
here to argue with two men at the end of a pistol ;
and — you tell me I'm in love. By what logic "

" It is written in your face, Mr. Burke — in
your eyes, in every feature, every muscle's con
traction, every modulation of your voice. My
tables, containing six hundred classified super
ficial phenomena peculiar to all human emotions,
have been compiled and scientifically arranged
according to Bertillon's system. It is an abso
lutely accurate key to every phase of human emo
tion, from hate, through all its amazingly para
doxical phenomena, to love, with all its genera
under the suborder — all its species, subspecies,
and varieties."

He leaned back, surveying the young man with
kindly amusement.

" You talk of pistol range, but you are thinking
of something more fatal than bullets, Mr. Burke.
You are thinking of love — of the first, great, ab
sorbing, unreasoning passion that has ever shaken
you, blinded you, seized you and dragged you out
of the ordered path of life, to push you violently
186

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

into the strange and unexplored! That is what
stares out on the world through those haunted
eyes of yours, when the smile dies out and you are
off your guard; that is what is hardening those
flat, clean bands of muscle in jaw and cheek; that
is what those hints of shadow mean beneath the
eye, that new and delicate pinch to the nostril,
that refining, almost to sharpness, of the nose,
that sensitive edging to the lips, and the lean
delicacy of the chin."

He bent slightly forward in his chair.

" There is all that there, Mr. Burke, and some
thing else — the glimmering dawn of desperation."

" Yes," said the other, " that is there. I am
desperate."

" Exactly. Also you wear two revolvers in a
light, leather harness strapped up under your
armpits," said the Tracer, laughing. " Take
them off, Mr. Burke. There is nothing to be
gained in shooting up Mr. Smiles or converting
Mr. Gandon into nitrates."

" If it is a matter where one man can help
another," the Tracer added simply, " it would
give me pleasure to place my resources at your
command — without recompense "

" Mr. Keen ! " said Burke, astonished.

"Yes?"

187

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

;£ You are very amiable ; I had not wished — had
not expected anything except professional interest
from you."

" Why not? I like you, Mr. Burke."

The utter disarming candor of this quiet, el
derly gentleman silenced the younger man with a
suddenness born of emotions long crushed, long
relentlessly mastered, and which now, in revolt,
shook him fiercely in every fiber. All at once he
felt very young, very helpless in the world — that
same world through which, until within a few
weeks, he had roved so confidently, so arrogantly,
challenging man and the gods themselves in the
pride of his strength and youth.

But now, halting, bewildered, lost amid the
strange maze of byways whither impulse had
lured and abandoned him, he looked out into a
world of wilderness and unfamiliar stars and
shadow shapes undreamed of, and he knew not
which way to turn — not even how to return along
the ways his impetuous feet had trodden in this
strange and hopeless quest of his.

" How can you help me? " he said bluntly, while
the quivering undertone rang in spite of him.
;< Yes, I am in love ; but how can any living man
help me? "

"Are you in love with the dead?" asked the
188

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Tracer gravely. " For that only is hopeless.
Are you in love with one who is not living? "

" Yes."

" You love one whom you know to be dead ? "

" Yes ; dead."

" How do you know that she is dead ? "

" That is not the question. I knew that when
I fell in love with her. It is not that which appals
me; I ask nothing more than to live my life out
loving the dead. I — I ask very little."

He passed his unsteady hand across his dry lips,
across his eyes and forehead, then laid his clinched
fist on the table.

" Some men remain constant to a memory ; some
to a picture — sane, wholesome, normal men. Some
men, with a fixed ideal, never encounter its fac
simile, and so never love. There is nothing
strange, after all, in this; nothing abnormal,
nothing unwholesome. Griinwald loved the mar
ble head and shoulders of the lovely Amazon in
the Munich Museum; he died unmarried, leaving
the charities and good deeds of a blameless life to
justify him. Sir Henry Guest, the great sur
geon who worked among the poor without recom
pense, loved Gainsborough's ' Lady Wilton.' The
portrait hangs above his tomb in St. Clement's
Hundreds. D'Epernay loved Mile. Jeanne Vaca-
189

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

resco, who died before he was born. And I — I
love in my own fashion."

His low voice rang with the repressed undertone
of excitement; he opened and closed his clinched
hand as though controlling the lever of his emo
tions.

" What can you do for a man who loves the
shadow of Life ? " he asked.

" If you love the shadow because the substance
has passed away — if you love the soul because the
dust has returned to the earth as it was "

66 It has not ! " said the younger man.

The Tracer said very gravely : " It is writ
ten that whenever * the Silver Cord ' is • loosed,
4 then shall the dust return unto the earth as it
was, and the spirit shall return unto Him who
gave it.' "

" The spirit — yes ; that has taken its splendid
flight "

His voice choked up, died out; he strove to
speak again, but could not. The Tracer let him
alone, and bent again over his desk, drawing imag
inary circles on the stained blotter, while moment
after moment passed under the tension of that
fiercest of all struggles, when a man sits throttling
his own soul into silence.

And, after a long time, Burke lifted a haggard
190

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

face from the cradle of his crossed arms and
shook his shoulders, drawing a deep, steady
breath.

" Listen to me \ " he said in an altered voice.

And the Tracer of Lost Persons nodded.

191

CHAPTER XVIII

" WHEN I left the Point I was assigned to the
colored cavalry. They are good men ; we went up
Kettle Hill together. Then came the Philippine
troubles, then that Chinese affair. Then I did
staff duty, and could not stand the inactivity and
resigned. They had no use for me in Manchuria ;
I tired of waiting, and went to Venezuela. The
prospects for service there were absurd; I heard
of the Moorish troubles and went to Morocco.
Others of my sort swarmed there; matters
dragged and dragged, and the Kaiser never
meant business, anyway.

" Being independent, and my means permitting
me, I got some shooting in the back country.
This all degenerated into the merest nomadic
wandering — nothing but sand, camels, ruins,
tents, white walls, and blue skies. And at last
I came to the town of Sa-el-Hagar.5'

His voice died out; his restless, haunted eyes
became fixed.

" Sa-el-Hagar, once ancient Sai's," repeated the
192

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Tracer quietly ; and the young man looked at
him.

"You know that?"

" Yes," said the Tracer.

For a while Burke remained silent, preoccupied,
then, resting his chin on his hand and speaking
in a curiously monotonous voice, as though re
peating to himself by rote, he went on:

" The town is on the heights — have you a pen
cil? Thank you. Here is the town of Sa-el-
Hagar, here are the ruins, here is the wall, and
somewhere hereabouts should be the buried temple
of Neith, which nobody has found." He shifted
his pencil. " Here is the lake of Sai's ; here, stand
ing all alone on the plain, are those great mono
lithic pillars stretching away into perspective —
four hundred of them in all — a hundred and nine
still upright. There were one hundred and ten
when I arrived at El Teb Wells."

He looked across at the Tracer, repeating:
" One hundred and ten — when I arrived. One
fell the first night — a distant pillar far away on
the horizon. Four thousand years had it stood
there. And it fell — the first night of my arrival.
I heard it; the nights are cold at El Teb Wells,
and I was lying awake, all a-shiver, counting the
stars to make me sleep. And very, very far away
193

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

in the desert I heard and felt the shock of its fall
— the fall of forty centuries under the Egyptian
stars."

His eyes grew dreamy ; a slight glow had stained
his face.

" Did you ever halt suddenly in the Northern
forests, listening, as though a distant voice had
hailed you? Then you understand why that far,
dull sound from the dark horizon brought me to
my feet, bewildered, listening, as though my own
name had been spoken.

" I heard the wind in the tents and the stir of
camels ; I heard the reeds whispering on Sais Lake
and the yap-yap of a shivering jackal ; and always,
always, the hushed echo in my ears of my own name
called across the star-lit waste.

" At dawn I had forgotten. An Arab told me
that a pillar had fallen ; it was all the same to me,
to him, to the others, too. The sun came out hot.
I like heat. My men sprawled in the tents ; some
watered, some went up to the town to gossip in
the bazaar. I mounted and cast bridle on neck —
you see how much I cared where I went! In two
hours we had completed a circle — like a ruddy
hawk above El Teb. And my horse halted beside
the fallen pillar."

As he spoke his language had become very sim-
194

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

pie, very direct, almost without accent, and he
spoke slowly, picking his way with that lack of
inflection, of emotion characteristic of a child
reading a new reader.

4 The column had fallen from its base, east
ward, and with its base it had upheaved another
buried base, laying bare a sort of cellar and a
flight of stone steps descending into darkness.

" Into this excavation the sand was still run
ning in tiny rivulets. Listening, I could hear it
pattering far, far down into the shadows.

" Sitting there in the saddle, the thing ex
plained itself as I looked. The fallen pillar had
been built upon older ruins ; all Egypt is that way,
ruin founded on the ruin of ruins — like human
hopes.

* The stone steps, descending into the shadow
of remote ages, invited me. I dismounted, walked
to the edge of the excavation, and, kneeling,
peered downward. And I saw a wall and the
lotus-carved rim of a vast stone-framed pool;
and as I looked I heard the tinkle of water. For
the pillar, falling, had unbottled the ancient
spring, and now the stone-framed lagoon was
slowly filling after its drought of centuries.

* There was light enough to see by, but, not
knowing how far I might penetrate, I returned to

195

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

my horse, pocketed matches and candles from the
saddlebags, and, returning, started straight down
the steps of stone.

"Fountain, wall, lagoon, steps, terraces half
buried — all showed what the place had been: a
water garden of ancient Egypt — probably royal
— because, although I am not able to decipher
hieroglyphics, I have heard somewhere that these
picture inscriptions, when inclosed in a cartouch
like this " — he drew rapidly —

" or this

0

indicate that the subject of the inscription was
once a king.

" And on every wall, every column, I saw the
insignia of ancient royalty, and I saw strange
hawk-headed figures bearing symbols engraved
on stone — beasts, birds, fishes, unknown signs and
symbols ; and everywhere the lotus carved in stone
— the bud, the blossom half -inclosed, the perfect
flower."

His dreamy eyes met the gaze of the Tracer,
unseeing; he rested his sunburned face between
196

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

both palms, speaking in the same vague mono
tone:

" Everywhere dust, ashes, decay, the death of
life, the utter annihilation of the living — save only
the sparkle of reborn waters slowly covering the
baked bed of the stone-edged pool — strange, lumi
nous water, lacking the vital sky tint, enameled
with a film of dust, yet, for all that, quickening
with imprisoned brilliancy like an opal.

" The slow filling of the pool fascinated me ; I
stood I know not how long watching the thin film
of water spreading away into the dimness beyond.
At last I turned and passed curiously along the
wall where, at its base, mounds of dust marked
what may have been trees. Into these I probed
with my riding crop, but discovered nothing
except the depths of the dust.

" When I had penetrated the ghost of this an
cient garden for a thousand yards the light from
the opening was no longer of any service. I
lighted a candle ; and its yellow rays fell upon a
square portal into which led another flight of
steps. And I went down.

' There were eighteen steps descending into a

square stone room. Strange gleams and glimmers

from wall and ceiling flashed dimly in my eyes

under the wavering flame of the candle. Then the

197

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

flame grew still — still as death — and Death lay at
my feet — there on the stone floor — a man, square
shouldered, hairless, the cobwebs of his tunic man
tling him, lying face downward, arms outflung.

" After a moment I stooped and touched him,
and the entire prostrate figure dissolved into dust
where it lay, leaving at my feet a shadow shape in
thin silhouette against the pavement — merely a
gray layer of finest dust shaped like a man, a
tracery of impalpable powder on the stones.

" Upward and around me I passed the burning
candle ; vast figures in blue and red and gold grew
out of the darkness; the painted walls sparkled;
the shadows that had slept through all those cen
turies trembled and shrank away into distant
corners,

" And then — and then I saw the gold edges of
her sandals sparkle in the darkness, and the
clasped girdle of virgin gold around her slender
waist glimmered like purest flame ! "

Burke, leaning far across the table, interlocked
hands tightening, stared and stared into space.
A smile edged his mouth; his voice grew wonder
fully gentle:

" Why, she was scarcely eighteen — this child —
lying there so motionless, so lifelike, with the san
dals edging her little upturned feet, and the small
198

"'As though . . . scarcely sound asleep as yet.'"

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

hands of her folded between the breasts. It was
as though she had just stretched herself out there
— scarcely sound asleep as yet, and her thick, silky
htvir — cut as they cut children's hair in these days,
you know — cradled her head and cheeks.

" So marvelous the mimicry of life, so absolute
the deception of breathing sleep, that I scarce
dared move, fearing to awaken her.

" When I did move I forgot the dusty shape
of the dead at my feet, and left, full across his
neck, the imprint of a spurred riding boot. It
gave me my first shudder; I turned, feeling be
neath my foot the soft, yielding powder, and stood
aghast. Then — it is absurd ! — but I felt as a man
feels who has trodden inadvertently upon an
other's foot — and in an impulse of reparation I
stooped hastily and attempted to smooth out the
mortal dust which bore the imprint of my heel.
But the fine powder flaked my glove, and, looking
about for something to compose the ashes with,
I picked up a papyrus scroll. Perhaps he himself
had written on it ; nobody can ever know, and I
used it as a sort of hoe to scrape him together and
smooth him out on the stones."

The young man drew a yellowish roll of paper-
like substance from his pocket and laid it on the
table.

14 199

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

; This is the same papyrus," he said. " I had
forgotten that I carried it away with me until I
found it in my shooting coat while packing to sail
for New York."

The Tracer of Lost Persons reached over and
picked up the scroll. It was flexible still, but
brittle; he opened it with great care, considered
the strange figures upon it for a while, then turned
almost sharply on his visitor.

" Go on," he said.

And Burke went on :

" The candle was burning low ; I lighted two
more, placing them at her head and feet on the
edges of the stone couch. Then, lighting a third
candle, I stood beside the couch and looked down
at the dead girl under her veil-like robe, set with
golden stars."

He passed his hand wearily over his hair and
forehead.

" I do not know what the accepted meaning of
beauty may be if it was not there under my eyes.
Flawless as palest amber ivory and rose, the
smooth-flowing contours melted into exquisite
symmetry ; lashes like darkest velvet rested on the
pure curve of the checks ; the closed lids, the
mouth still faintly stained with color, the delicate
nose, the full, childish lips, sensitive, sweet, rest-
200

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

ing softly upon each other — if these were not all
parts of but one lovely miracle, then there is no
beauty save in a dream of Paradise. . . .

" A gold band of linked scarabs bound her
short, thick hair straight across the forehead;
thin scales of gold fell from a necklace, clothing
her breasts in brilliant discolored metal, through
which ivory-tinted skin showed. A belt of pure,
soft gold clasped her body at the waist; gold-
edged sandals clung to her little feet.

" At first, when the stunned surprise had sub
sided, I thought that I was looking upon some
miracle of ancient embalming, hitherto unknown.
Yet, in the smooth skin there was no slit to prove
it, no opening in any vein or artery, no mutilation
of this sculptured masterpiece of the Most High,
no cerements, no bandages, no gilded carven case
with painted face to stare open eyed through the
waiting cycles.

" This was the image of sleep — of life uncon
scious — not of death. Yet is was death — death
that had come upon her centuries and centuries
ago ; for the gold had turned iridescent and mag
nificently discolored ; the sandal straps fell into
dust as I bent above them, leaving the sandals
clinging to her feet only by the wired silver core
of the thongs. And, as I touched it fearfully, the
201

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

veil-like garment covering her, vanished into thin
air, its metal stars twinkling in a shower around
her on the stone floor."

The Tracer, motionless, intent, scarcely
breathed; the younger man moved restlessly in
his chair, the dazed light in his eyes clearing to
sullen consciousness.

" What more is there to tell? " he said. " And
to what purpose ? All this is time wasted. I have
my work cut out for me. What more is there to
tell?"

" What you have left untold," said the Tracer,
with the slightest ring of authority in his quiet
voice.

And, as though he had added " Obey ! " the
younger man sank back in his chair, his hands con
tracting nervously.

" I went back to El Teb," he said; " I walked
like a dreaming man. My sleep was haunted by
her beauty ; night after night, when at last I fell
asleep, instantly I saw her face, and her dark eyes
opening into mine in childish bewilderment; day
after day I rode out to the fallen pillar and de
scended to that dark chamber where she lay alone.
Then there came a time when I could not endure
the thought of her lying there alone. I had never
dared to touch her. Horror of what might hap-
202

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

pen had held me aloof lest she crumble at my touch
to that awful powder which I had trodden on.

" I did not know what to do ; my Arabs had be
gun to whisper among themselves, suspicious of my
absences, impatient to break camp, perhaps, and
roam on once more. Perhaps they believed I had
discovered treasure somewhere ; I am not sure. At
any rate, dread of their following me, determina
tion to take my dead away with me, drove me into
action; and that day when I reached her silent
chamber I lighted my candle, and, leaning above
her for one last look, I touched her shoulder with
my finger tip.

" It was a strange sensation. Prepared for a
dreadful dissolution, utterly unprepared for cool,
yielding flesh, I almost dropped where I stood.
For her body was neither cold nor warm, neither
dust-dry nor moist ; neither the skin of the living
nor the dead. It was firm, almost stiff, yet not
absolutely without a certain hint of flexibility.

" The appalling wonder of it consumed me ;
fear, incredulity, terror, apathy succeeded each
other; then slowly a fierce shrinking happiness
swept me in every fiber.

" This marvelous death, this triumph of beauty
over death, was mine. Never again should she lie
here alone through the solitudes of night and day ;
203

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

never again should the dignity of Death lack the
tribute demanded of Life. Here was the ap
pointed watcher — I, who had found her alone in
the wastes of the world — all alone on the outer
most edges of the world — a child, dead and un
guarded. And standing there beside her I knew
that I should never love again."

He straightened up, stretching out his arm : " I
did not intend to carry her away to what is known
as Christian burial. How could I consign her to
darkness again, with all its dreadful mockery of
marble, all its awful emblems?

;4 This lovely stranger was to be my guest for
ever. The living should be near her while she slept
so sweetly her slumber through the centuries ; she
should have warmth, and soft hangings and sun
light and flowers ; and her unconscious ears should
be filled with the pleasant stir of living things.
... I have a house in the country, a very old
house among meadows and young woodlands.
And I — I had dreamed of giving this child a
home "

His voice broke ; he buried his head in his hands
a moment ; but when he lifted it again his features
were hard as steel.

" There was already talk in the bazaar about
me. I was probably followed, but I did not know
204

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

it. Then one of my men disappeared. For a week
I hesitated to trust my Arabs ; but there was no
other way. I told them there was a mummy which
I desired to carry to some port and smuggle out
of the country without consulting the Govern
ment. I knew perfectly well that the Government
would never forego its claim to such a relic of
Egyptian antiquity. I offered my men too much,
perhaps. I don't know. They hesitated for a
week, trying by every artifice to see the treasure,
but I never let them out of my sight.

" Then one day two white men came into camp ;
and with them came a government escort to arrest
me for looting an Egyptian tomb. The white men
were Joram Smiles and that Eurasian, Emanuel
Gandon, who was partly white, I suppose. I
didn't comprehend what they were up to at first.
They escorted me forty miles to confront the of
ficial at Shen-Bak. When, after a stormy week,
I was permitted to return to Sai's, my Arabs and
the white men were gone. And the stone chamber
under the water garden wall was empty as the
hand I hold out to you ! "

He opened his palm and rose, his narrowing
eyes clear and dangerous.

" At the bazaar I learned enough to know what
had been done. I traced the white men to the
205

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

coast. They sailed on the Scythian Queen, taking
with them all that I care for on earth or in
heaven! And you ask me why I measure their
distance from me by a bullet's flight ! "

The Tracer also rose, pale and grave.

" Wait ! " he said. " There are other things to
be done before you prepare to face a jury for
double murder."

" It is for them to choose," said Burke. " They
shall have the choice of returning to me my dead,
or of going to hell full of lead."

" Exactly, my dear sir. That part is not dif
ficult," said the Tracer quietly. " There will be
no occasion for violence, I assure you. Kindly
leave such details to me. I know what is to be
done. You are outwardly very calm, Mr. Burke
— even dangerously placid ; but though you main
tain an admirable command over yourself super
ficially, you are laboring under terrible excitement.
Therefore it is my duty to say to you at once that
there is no cause for your excitement, no cause for
your apprehension as to results. I feel exceed
ingly confident that you will, in due time, regain
possession of all that you care for most —
quietly, quietly, my dear sir! You are not yet
ready to meet these men, nor am I ready to go
with you. I beg you to continue your habit of
206

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSOXS

n mum

u

tsa

a

U^N

o ~<U

207

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

self-command for a little while. There is no haste
— that is to say, there is every reason to make
haste slowly. And the quickest method is to seat
yourself. Thank you. And I shall sit here beside
you and spread out this papyrus scroll for your
inspection."

Burke stared at the Tracer, then at the scroll.

" What has that inscription to do with the mat
ter in hand? " he demanded impatiently.

" I leave you to judge," said the Tracer. A
dull tint of excitement flushed his lean cheeks ; he
twisted his gray mustache and bent over the un
rolled scroll which was now held flat by weights at
the four corners.

" Can you understand any of these symbols,
Mr. Burke ? " he asked.

" No."

" Curious," mused the Tracer. " Do you know
it was fortunate that you put this bit of papyrus
in the pocket of your shooting coat — so fortu
nate that, in a way, it approaches the miracu
lous? "

" What do you mean ? Is there anything in
that scroll bearing on this matter ? "

" Yes."

" And you can read it ? Are you versed in such
learning, Mr. Keen ? "

208

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I am an Egyptologist — among other details,"
said the Tracer calmly.

The young man gazed at him, astonished. The
Tracer of Lost Persons picked up a pencil, laid a
sheet of paper on the table beside the papyrus,
and slowly began to copy the first symbol :

209

CHAPTER XIX

" THE ancient Egyptian word for the personal
pronoun ' I ' was awuk? said the Tracer placidly.
' The phonetic for a was the hieroglyph

a reed; for n the water symbol

AVWV
for u the symbols

for k

Therefore this hieroglyphic inscription begins with
the personal pronoun

or /. That is very easy, of course.

" Now, the most ancient of Egyptian inscrip
tions read vertically in columns; there are only
two columns in this papyrus, so we'll try it verti
cally and pass downward to the next symbol, which
is inclosed in a sort of frame or cartouch. That
210

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

immediately signifies that royalty is mentioned;
therefore, we have already translated as much as
4 1, the king (or queen).' Do you see? "

" Yes," said Burke, staring.

" Very well. Now this symbol, number two,

spells out the word 4 Meris? in this way: M (pro
nounced me) is phonetically symbolized by the
characters

r by

(a mouth) and the comma

3
and the hieroglyph

i by two reeds

and two oblique strokes,

\\
and s by

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

This gives us Meris, the name of that deposed
and fugitive king of Egypt who, after a last
raid on the summer palace of Mer-Shen, usurp
ing ruler of Egypt, was followed and tracked to
Sai's, where, with an arrow through his back, he
crawled to El Teb and finally died there of his
wound. All this Egyptologists are perfectly
familiar with in the translations of the boastful
tablets and inscriptions erected near Sai's by Mer-
Shen, the three hundred and twelfth sovereign
after Queen Nitocris."

He looked up at Burke, smiling. " Therefore,"
he said, " this papyrus scroll was written by Meris,
ex-king, a speculative thousands of years before
Christ. And it begins : ' I, Meris the King.5 "

" How does all this bear upon what concerns
me ? " demanded Burke.

"Wait!"

Something in the quiet significance of the Tra
cer's brief command sent a curious thrill through
the younger man. He leaned stiffly forward,
studying the scroll, every faculty concentrated on
the symbol which the Tracer had now touched with
the carefully sharpened point of his pencil :

" That," said Mr. Keen, " is the ancient Egyp-

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

tian word for * little,' * Ket .' The next, below,
written in two lines, is ' Samaris,' a proper name
—the name of a woman. Under that, again, is the
symbol for the number 18 ; the decimal sign,

n

and eight vertical strokes,

Under that, again, is a hieroglyph of another sort,
an ideograph representing a girl with a harp;
and, beneath that, the symbol which always repre
sented a dancing girl

and also the royal symbol inclosed in a cartouch,

12

which means literally ' the Ruler of Upper and
Lower Egypt.' Under that is the significant
symbol

213

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

representing an arm and a hand holding a stick.
This always means force — to take forcibly or to
use violence. Therefore, so far, we have the fol
lowing literal translation : ' I, Meris the King, little
Samaris, eighteen, a harpist, dancing girl, the
Ruler of Upper and Lower Egypt, to take by vio
lence ' "

" What does that make? " broke in Burke im
patiently.

" Wait! Wait until we have translated every
thing literally. And, Mr. Burke, it might make
it easier for us both if you would remember that
I have had the pleasure of deciphering many hun
dreds of papyri before you had ever heard that
there were such things."

" I beg your pardon," said the young man in a
low voice.

" I beg yours for my impatience," said the
Tracer pleasantly. " This deciphering always did
affect my nerves and shorten my temper. And, no
doubt, it is quite as hard on you. Shall we go on,
Mr. Burke?"

" If you please, Mr. Keen."

So the Tracer laid his pencil point on the next
symbol

214

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" That is the symbol for night," he said ; " and
that

is the water symbol again, as you know ; and that

is the ideograph, meaning a ship. The five reversed
crescents

record the number of days voyage; the sign

means a house, and is also the letter H in the
Egyptian alphabet.

" Under it, again, we have a repetition of the
first symbol meaning /, and a repetition of the
second symbol, meaning ' Meris, the King.' Then,
below that cartouch, comes a new symbol,

which is the feminine personal pronoun, sentus,
meaning ' she ' ; and the first column is completed
with the symbol for the ancient Egyptian verb,
nehes, ' to awake,'

15

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" And now we take the second column, which
begins with the jackal ideograph expressing sly
ness or cleverness. Under it is the hieroglyph
meaning ' to run away,' ' to escape.' And under
that, Mr. Burke, is one of the rarest of all
Egyptian symbols ; a symbol seldom seen on stone
or papyrus,

except in rare references to the mysteries of Isis.
The meaning of it, so long in dispute, has finally
been practically determined through a new dis
covery in the cuneiform inscriptions. It is the
symbol of two hands holding two closed eyes ; and
it signifies power."

4 You mean that those ancients understood
hypnotism? " asked Burke, astonished.

" Evidently their priests did ; evidently hyp
notism was understood and employed in certain
mysteries. And there is the symbol of it; and
under it the hieroglyphs

meaning ' a day and a night,' with the symbol

216

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

as usual present to signify force or strength em
ployed. Under that, again, is a human figure
stretched upon a typical Egyptian couch. And
now, Mr. Burke, note carefully three modifying
signs : first, that it is a couch or bed on which the
figure is stretched, not the funeral couch, not the
embalming slab; second, there is no mummy mask
covering the face, and no mummy case covering
the body; third, that under the recumbent figure
is pictured an open mouth, not a closed one.

" All these modify the ideograph, apparently
representing death. But the sleep symbol is not
present. Therefore it is a sound inference that
all this simply confirms the symbol of hypnotism."

Burke, intensely absorbed, stared steadily at
the scroll.

" Now," continued Mr. Keen, " we note the
symbol of force again, always present ; and, con
tinuing horizontally, a cartouch quite empty ex
cept for the midday sun. That is simply trans
lated ; the midday sun illuminates nothing. Meris,
deposed, is king only in name ; and the sun no
longer shines on him as c Ruler of Upper and
Lower Egypt.' Under that despairing symbol,
* King of Nothing,' we have

csn

217

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

the phonetics which spell sha, the word for garden.
And, just beyond this, horizontally, the modifying
ideograph meaning ' a water garden ' ;

a design of lotus and tree alternating on a terrace.
Under that is the symbol for the word ' anebj

a ' wall.' Beyond that, horizontally, is the symbol
for ' house.' It should be placed under the wall
symbol, but the Egyptians were very apt to fill
up spaces instead of continuing their vertical col
umns. Now, beneath, we find the imperative com
mand

' arise ! ' And the Egyptian personal pronoun
4 emtwtenf

which means ' you ' or ' thou.'
" Under that is the symbol

218

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

which means ' priest,' or, literally, ' priest man.'
Then comes the imperative ' awake to life ! '

After that, our first symbol again, meaning ' /,'
followed horizontally by the symbol

A

signifying ' to go.'

" Then comes a very important drawing — you
see? — the picture of a man with a jackal's head,
not a dog's head. It is not accompanied by the
phonetic in a cartouch, as it should be. Probably
the writer was in desperate haste at the end. But,
nevertheless, it is easy to translate that symbol of
the man with a jackal's head. It is a picture of
the Egyptian god, Anubis, who was supposed to
linger at the side of the dying to conduct their
souls. Anubis, the jackal-headed, is the courier,
the personal escort of departing souls. And this
is he.

" And now the screed ends with the cry ' Pray
for me ! '

219

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

the last symbol on this strange scroll — this missive
written by a deposed, wounded, and dying king
to an unnamed priest. Here is the literal trans
lation in columns :

Meris the King
little
Samaris
eighteen
a harpist

a dancing girl — Ruler of
Upper and Lower

Egypt

took forcibly — night

by water

five days

ship

house

I

Meris the King

she

awake

cunning

escape

hypnotize

King of Nothing )

place forcibly j

garden |

water garden )

wall

house

Arise. Do

Thou

Priest Man

Awake )

To life )

I go

Anubis

Pray

" And this is what that letter, thousands of
years old, means in this language of ours, hun
dreds of years young : ' I, Meris the King, seized
little Samaris, a harpist and a dancing girl, eight
een years of age, belonging to the King of Upper
and Lower Egypt, and carried her away at night
on shipboard — a voyage of five days — to my
220

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

house. I, Meris the King, lest she lie awake watch
ing cunningly for a chance to escape, hypnotized
her (or had her hypnotized) so that she lay like
one dead or asleep, but breathing, and I, King no
longer of Upper and Lower Egypt, took her and
placed her in my house under the wall of the water
garden. Arise! therefore, O thou priest; (go)
and awaken her to life. I am dying (I go with
Anubis !). Pray for me ! ' "

CHAPTER XX

FOR a full minute the two men sat there without
moving or speaking. Then the Tracer laid aside
his pencil.

" To sum up," he said, opening the palm of his
left hand and placing the forefinger of his right
across it, " the excavation made by the falling pillar
raised in triumph above the water garden of the
deposed king, Meris, by his rival, was the sub
terranean house of Meris. The prostrate figure
which crumbled to powder at your touch may have
been the very priest to whom this letter or papy
rus was written. Perhaps the bearer of the scroll
was a traitor and stabbed the priest as he was
reading the missive. Who can tell how that priest
died? He either died or betrayed his trust, for he
never aroused the little Samaris from her sus
pended animation. And the water garden fell into
ruins and she slept ; and the Ruler of Upper and
Lower Egypt raised his columns, lotus crowned,
above the ruins; and she slept on. Then — you
came."

Burke stared like one stupefied.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I do not know," said the Tracer gravely,
" what balm there may be in a suspension of sen
sation, perhaps of vitality, to protect the human
body from corruption after death. I do not know
how soon suspended animation or the state of hyp
notic coma, undisturbed, changes into death —
whether it comes gradually, imperceptibly free
ing the soul ; whether the soul hides there, asleep,
until suddenly the flame of vitality is extinguished.
I do not know how long she lay there with life
in her."

He leaned back and touched an electric bell,
then, turning to Burke:

" Speaking of pistol range," he said, " unstrap
those weapons and pass them over, if you please."

And the young man obeyed as in a trance.

" Thank you. There are four men coming into
this room. You will keep your seat, if you please,
Mr. Burke."

After a moment the door opened noiselessly.
Two men handcuffed together entered the room;
two men, hands in their pockets, sauntered care-
lessty behind the prisoners and leaned back against
the closed door.

" That short, red-haired, lame man with the cast
in his eye — do you recognize him? " asked the
Tracer quietly.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Burke, grasping the arms of his chair, had
started to rise, fury fairly blazing from his eyes ;
but, at the sound of the Tracer's calm, even voice,
he sank back into his chair.

'' That is Joram Smiles? You recognize him? "
continued Mr. Keen.

Burke nodded.

" .Exactly — alias Limpy, alias Red Jo, alias Big
Stick Joram, alias Pinky; swindler, international
confidence man, fence, burglar, gambler ; convicted
in 1887, and sent to Sing Sing for forgery ; con
victed in 1898, and sent to Auburn for swindling ;
arrested by my men on board the S.S. Scythian
Queen, at the cabled request of John T. Burke,
Esquire, and held to explain the nature of his lug
gage, which consisted of the contents of an Egyp
tian vault or underground ruin, declared at the
customhouse as a mummy, and passed as such."

The quiet, monotonous voice of the Tracer
halted, then, as he glanced at the second prisoner,
grew harder:

" Emanuel Gandon, general international crim
inal, with over half a hundred aliases, arrested in
company with Smiles and held until Mr. Burke's
arrival."

Turning to Burke, the Tracer continued : " For
tunately, the Scythian Queen broke down off Brin-

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

disi. It gave us time to act on your cable; we
found these men aboard when she was signaled off
the Hook. I went out with the pilot myself, Mr.
Burke."

Smiles shot a wicked look at Burke; Gandon
scowled at the floor.

" Now," said the Tracer pleasantly, meeting
the venomous glare of Smiles, " I'll get you that
warrant you have been demanding to have ex
hibited to you. Here it is — charging you and
your amiable friend Gandon with breaking into
and robbing the Metropolitan Museum of ancient
Egyptian gold ornaments, in March, 1903, and
taking them to France, where they were sold to
collectors. It seems that you found the business
good enough to go prowling about Egypt on a
hunt for something to sell here. A great mis
take, my friends — a very great mistake, because,
after the Museum has finished with you, the
Egyptian Government desires to extradite you.
And I rather suspect you'll have to go."

He nodded to the two quiet men leaning against
the door.

" Come, Joram," said one of them pleasantly.

But Smiles turned furiously on the Tracer.
" You lie, you old gray rat ! " he cried. " That
ain't no mummy; that's a plain dead girl! And
225

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

there ain't no extrydition for body snatchin', so
I guess them niggers at Cairo won't get us, after
all!"

" Perhaps," said the Tracer, looking at Burke,
who had risen, pale and astounded. " Sit down,
Mr. Burke! There is no need to question these
men ; no need to demand what they robbed you of.
For," he added slowly, " what they took from the
garden grotto of Sai's, and from you, I have under
my own protection."

The Tracer rose, locked the door through which
the prisoners and their escorts had departed ; then,
turning gravely on Burke, he continued :

" That panel, there, is a door. There is a room
beyond — a room facing to the south, bright with
sunshine, flowers, soft rugs, and draperies of the
East. She is there — like a child asleep ! "

Burke reeled, steadying himself against the
wall; the Tracer stared at space, speaking very
slowly :

" Such death I have never before heard of.
From the moment she came under my protection
I have dared to doubt — many things. And an
hour ago you brought me a papyrus scroll con
firming my doubts. I doubt still — Heaven knows
what ! Who can say how long the flame of life may
flicker within suspended animation? A week?
226

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

A month? A year? Longer than that? Yes; the
Hindoos have proved it. How long? The span
of a normal life? Or longer? Can the life flame
burn indefinitely when the functions are absolutely
suspended — generation after generation, century
after century ? "

Burke, ghastly >hite, straightened up, quiver
ing in. every limb ; the Tracer, as pale as he, laid
his hand on the secret panel.

" If — if you cUre say it — the phrase is this :
' 0 Ket Samaris, Nehes ! ' — ' O Little Samaris,
awake!'"

" I — dare. In Heaven's name, open that
door ! "

Then, averting his head, the Tracer of Lost
Persons swung open the panel.

A flood of sunshine flashed on Burke's face ; he
entered; and the paneled door closed behind him
without a sound.

Minute after minute passed; the Tracer stood
as though turned to stone, gray head bent.

Then he heard Burke's voice ring out un
steadily :

" O Ket Samaris — Samaris ! O Ket Samaris —
Nehes ! "

And again : " Samaris ! Samaris ! O beloved,
awake ! "

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

And once more : " Nehes ! O Samaris ! "

Silence, broken by a strange, sweet, drowsy
plaint — like a child awakened at midnight by a
dazzling light.

" Samaris ! "

Then, through the stillness, a little laugh, and
a softly tremulous voice:

" Ari un aha, 0 Entuk sen ! "

228

CHAPTER XXI

" WHAT we want to do," said Gatewood over the
telephone, " is to give you a corking little dinner
at the Santa Rcgina. There'll be Mr. and Mrs.
Tommy Kerns, Captain and Mrs. Harren, Mr. and
Mrs. Jack Burke, Mrs. Gatewood, and myself.
We want you to set the date for it, Mr. Keen, and
we also wish you to suggest one more deliriously
happy couple whom you have dragged out of mis
ery and flung head-first into terrestrial paradise."

" Do you young people really care to do this
for me ? " asked the Tracer, laughing.

" Of course we do. We're crazy about it. We
want one more couple, and you to set the date."

There was the slightest pause ; then the Tracer's
voice, with the same undertone of amusement ring
ing through it:

" How would your cousin, Victor Garden, do ? "

" He's all right, only he isn't married. We want
two people whom you have joined together after
hazard has put them asunder and done stunts with
them."

" Very well ; Victor Garden and his very lovely
wife will be just the people."

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Is Victor married? " demanded Gatewood,
astonished.

" No," said the Tracer demurely, " but he will
be in time for that dinner." And he set the date
for the end of the week in an amused voice, and
rang off.

Then he glanced at the clock, touched an elec
tric bell, and again unhooking the receiver of the
telephone, called up the Sherwood Studios and
asked for Mr. Garden.

" Is this Mr. Garden ? Oh, good morning, Mr.
Garden ! This is Mr. Keen, Tracer of Lost Per
sons. Could you make it convenient to call —
say in course of half an hour? Thank you. . . .
What? . . . Well, speaking with that caution
and reserve which we are obliged to employ in
making any preliminary statements to our clients,
I think I may safely say that you have every
reason to feel moderately encouraged."

" You mean," said Garden's voice, " that you
have actually solved the proposition?"

" It has been a difficult proposition, Mr. Car-
den ; I will not deny that it has taxed our resources
to the uttermost. Over a thousand people, first
and last, have been employed on this case. It has
been a slow and tedious affair, Mr. Garden — te
dious for us all. We seldom have a case continue
230

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

as long as this has ; it is a year ago to-day since
you placed the matter in our hands. . . .What?
Well, without committing myself, I think that I
may venture to express a carefully qualified opin
ion that the solution of the case is probably prac
tically in the way of being almost accomplished!
. . . Yes, I shall expect you in half an hour.
Good-by ! "

The Tracer of Lost Persons' eyes were twin
kling as he hung up the receiver and turned in his
revolving chair to meet the pretty young woman
who had entered in response to his ring.

" The Garden case, if you please, Miss Smith,"
he said, smiling to himself.

The young woman also smiled ; the Garden case
had become a classic in the office. Nobody except
Mr. Keen had believed that the case could ever be
solved.

" Safe-deposit box 108923 ! " said Miss Smith
softly, pressing a speaking tube to her red lips.
In a few moments there came a hissing thud from
the pneumatic tube; Miss Smith unlocked it and
extracted a smooth, steel cylinder.

" The combination for that cylinder is A-4-44-
11-X," observed the Tracer, consulting a cipher
code, " which, translated," he added, " gives us
the setting combination, One, D, R-R,-J-'£4."
16 231

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Miss Smith turned the movable disks at the end
of the cylinder until the required combination ap
peared. Then she unscrewed the cylinder head
and dumped out the documents in the famous
Garden case.

" As Mr. Garden will be here in half an hour
or so I think we had better run over the case
briefly," nodded the Tracer, leaning back in his
chair and composing himself to listen. " Begin
with my preliminary memorandum, Miss Smith."

" Case 108923," began the girl. Then she read
the date, Garden's full name, Victor Garden, a
terse biography of the same gentleman, and added :
" Case accepted. Contingent fee, $5,000."

" Quite so," said Mr. Keen ; " now, run through
the minutes of the first interview."

And Miss Smith unrolled a typewritten scroll
and read:

" Victor Garden, Esquire, the well-known artist,
called this evening at 6.30. Tall, well-bred, good
appearance, very handsome; very much embar
rassed. Questioned by Mr. Keen he turned pink,
and looked timidly at the stenographer (Miss
Colt). Asked if he might not see Mr. Keen alone,
Miss Colt retired. Mr. Keen set the recording
phonograph in motion by dropping his elbow on
his desk."

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

A brief resume of the cylinder records followed :
" Mr. Garden asked Mr. Keen if he (Mr. Keen)
knew who he (Mr. Garden) was. Mr. Keen replied
that everybody knew Mr. Garden, the celebrated
painter and illustrator who had created the popu
lar type of beauty known as the ' Garden Girl.'
Mr. Garden blushed and fidgeted. (Notes from
Mr. Keen's Observation Book, pp. 291-297.)
Admitted that he was the creator of the { Garden
Girl.' Admitted he had drawn and painted that
particular type of feminine beauty many times.
Fidgeted some more. (Keen's 0. B., pp. 298-
299.) Volunteered the statement that this type of
beauty, known as the 4 Garden Girl,' was the cause
of great unhappiness to himself. Questioned,
turned pinker and fidgeted. (K. 0. £., page 300.)
Denied that his present trouble was caused by the
model who had posed for the ' Garden Girl.' Ex
plained that a number of assorted models had
posed for that type of beauty. Further explained
that none of them resembled the type; that the
type was his own creation; that he used models
merely for the anatomy, and that he always ideal
ized form and features.

" Questioned again, admitted that the features
of the ' Garden Girl ' were his ideal of the highest
and loveliest type of feminine beauty. Did not
233

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

deny that he had fallen in love with his own crea
tion. Turned red and tried to smoke. (K. 0. #.,
page 303.) Admitted he had been fascinated him
self with his own rendering of a type of beauty
which he had never seen anywhere except as rendered
by his own pencil on paper or on canvas. Fid
geted. (K. 0. B., page 304.) Admitted that he
could easily fall in love with a woman who resem
bled the ' Garden Girl.' Didn't believe she ever
really existed. Confessed he had hoped for years
to encounter her, but had begun to despair. Ad
mitted that he had ventured to think that Mr.
Keen might trace such a girl for him. Doubted
Mr. Keen's success. Fidgeted (K. 0. B., page
306) , and asked Mr. Keen to take the case. Prom
ised to send to Mr. Keen a painting in oil which
embodied his loftiest ideal of the type known as
the 'Garden Girl.' (Portrait received; litho
graphs made and distributed to our agents accord
ing to routine, from Canada to Mexico and from
the Atlantic to the Pacific.)

" Mr. Keen terminated the interview with char
acteristic tact, accepting the case on the contin
gent fee of $5,000."

"Very well," said the Tracer, as Miss Smith
rolled up the scroll and looked at him for further
instructions. " Now, perhaps you had better run
234

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

over the short summary of proceedings to date.
I mean the digest which you will find attached to
the completed records."

Miss Smith found the paper, unrolled it, and
read :

" During the twelve months' investigation and
search (in re Garden) seven hundred and nine
young women were discovered who resembled very
closely the type sought for. By process of elimi
nation, owing to defects in figure, features, speech,
breeding, etc., etc., this list was cut down to three.
One of these occasionally chewed gum, but other
wise resembled the type. The second married
before the investigation of her habits could be
completed. The third is apparently a flawless
replica of Mr. Garden's original in face, figure,
breeding, education, moral and mental habits. (See
Document 23, ^.)"

" Read Document 23, A," nodded Mr. Keen.

And Miss Smith read :

ROSALIND HOLLIS, M.D.

Age 24

Height 5 feet 9 inches

Weight 160 pounds

S Thick, bright, ruddy
golden, and inclined
to curl.
235

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Teeth Perfect

Eyes Dark violet-blue

Mouth Perfect

Color i Fair. An ivory-tinted

I blonde.

Figure Perfect

Health Perfect

Temper Feminine

( Austere, with a reso-
Habits J lutely suppressed

( capacity for romance.

Business None

Profession Physician

Mania A Mission

" NOTE. — Dr. Rosalind Hollis was presented to
society in her eighteenth year. At the end of her
second season she withdrew from society with the
detemination to devote her entire life to charity.
Settlement work and the study of medicine have
occupied her constantly. Recently admitted to
practice, she spends her mornings in visiting the
poor, whom she treats free of all charge ; her after
noons and evenings are devoted to what she ex
pects is to be her specialty : the study of the rare
malady known as Lamour's Disease. (See note on
second page.)

" It is understood that Dr. Hollis has abjured
the society of all men other than her patients
236

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

and such of her professional confreres as she is
obliged to consult or work with. Her theory is
that of the beehive : drones for mates, workers for
work. She adds, very decidedly, that she belongs
to the latter division, and means to remain there
permanently.

" NOTE (Mr. Keen's 0. B., pp. 916-18).— Her
eccentricity is probably the result of a fine, whole
some, highly strung young girl taking life and
herself too seriously. The remedy will be the
Right Man.'9

"Exactly," nodded Mr. Keen, joining the tips
of his thin fingers and partly closing his eyes.
" Now, Miss Smith, the disease which Dr. Hollis
intends to make her specialty — have you any notes
on that?"

" Here they are," said Miss Smith ; and she
read : " Lamour's Disease ; the rarest of all known
diseases ; first discovered and described by Ero S.
Lamour, M.D., M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H., in 1861.
Only a single case has ever been observed. This
case is fully described in Dr. Lamour's superb and
monumental work in sixteen volumes. Briefly, the
disease appears without any known cause, and is
ultimately supposed to result fatally. The first
symptom is the appearance of a faintly bluish
circle under the eyes, as though the patient was
237

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

accustomed to using the eyes too steadily at
times. Sometimes a slight degree of fever accom
panies this manifestation; pulse and temperature
vary. The patient is apparently in excellent
health, but liable to loss of appetite, restlessness,
and a sudden flushing of the face. These symp
toms are followed by others unmistakable: the
patient becomes silent at times; at times evinces
a weakness for sentimental expressions; flushes
easily ; is easily depressed ; will sit for hours look
ing at one person ; and, if not checked, will exhibit
impulsive symptoms of affection for the opposite
sex. The strangest symptom of all, however, is
the physical change in the patient, whose features
and figure, under the trained eye of the observer,
gradually from day to day assume the symmetry
and charm of a beauty almost unearthly, some
times accompanied by a spiritual pallor which is
unmistakable in confirming the diagnosis, and
which, Dr. Lamour believes, presages the inexor
able approach of immortality.

' There is no known remedy for Lamour's
Disease. The only case on record is the case of
the young lady described by Dr. Lamour, who
watched her for years with unexampled patience
and enthusiasm ; finally, in the interest of science,
marrying his patient in order to devote his life
238

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

to a study of her symptoms. Unfortunately, some
of these disappeared early — within a week — but
the curious manifestation of physical beauty re
mained, and continued to increase daily to a daz
zling radiance, with no apparent injury to the pa
tient. Dr. Lamour, unfortunately, died before his
investigations, covering over forty years, could be
completed; his widow survived him for a day or
two only, leaving sixteen children.

" Here is a wide and unknown field for medical
men to investigate. It is safe to say that the phy
sician who first discovers the bacillus of Lamour's
Disease and the proper remedy to combat it will
reap as his reward a glory and renown imperish
able. Lamour's Disease is a disease not yet under
stood — a disease whose termination is believed to
be fatal — a strange disease which seems to render
radiant and beautiful the features of the patient,
brightening them with the forewarning of im
pending death and the splendid resurrection of
immortality."

The Tracer of Lost Persons caressed his chin
reflectively. " .Exactly, Miss Smith. So this is
the disease which Dr. Hollis has chosen for her
specialty. And only one case on record. .Exactly.
Thank you."

Miss Smith replaced the papers in the steel
239

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

cylinder, slipped it into the pneumatic tube, sent
it whizzing below to the safe-deposit vaults, and,
saluting Mr. Keen with a pleasant inclination of
her head, went out of the room.

The Tracer turned in his chair, picked up the
daily detective report, and scanned it until he
came to the name Hollis. It appeared that the
daily routine of Rosalind Hollis had not varied
during the past three weeks. In the mornings she
was good to the poor with bottles and pills; in
the afternoons she tucked one of Lamour's famous
sixteen volumes under her arm and walked to Cen
tral Park, where, with democratic simplicity, she
sat on a secluded bench and pored over the symp
toms of Lamour's Disease. About five she retired
to her severely simple apartments in the big brown-
stone office building devoted to physicians, corner
of Fifty-eighth Street and Madison Avenue. Here
she took tea, read a little, dined all alone, and
retired about nine. This was the guileless but
determined existence of Rosalind Hollis, M.D.,
according to McConnell, the detective assigned to
observe her.

The Tracer refolded the report of his chief of
detectives and pigeonholed it just as the door
opened and a tall, well-built, attractive young man
entered.

240

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

Shyness was written all over him ; he offered his
hand to Mr. Keen with an embarrassed air and
seated himself at that gentleman's invitation.

" I'm almost sorry I ever began this sort of
thing," he blurted out, like a big schoolboy ap
palled at his own misdemeanors. " The truth is,
Mr. Keen, that the prospect of actually seeing
a ' Garden Girl ' alive has scared me through
and through. I've a notion that my business
with that sort of a girl ends when I've drawn her
picture."

" But surely," said the Tracer mildly, " you
have some natural curiosity to see the Hying copy
of your charming but inanimate originals, haven't
you, Mr. Garden ? "

" Yes — oh, certainly. I'd like to see one of them
alive — say out of a window, or from a cab. I
should not care to be too close to her."

" But merely seeing her does not commit you,"
interposed Mr. Keen, smiling. " She is far too
busy, too much absorbed in her own affairs to take
any notice of you. I understand that she has some
thing of an aversion for men."

" Aversion ! "

" Well, she excludes them as unnecessary to her
existence."

"Why?" asked Garden.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Because she has a mission in life," said Mr.
Keen gravely.

Garden looked out of the window. It was pleas
ant weather — June in all its early loveliness — the
fifth day of June. The sixth was his birthday.

" I've simply got to marry somebody before the
day after to-morrow," he said aloud — " that is, if
I want my legacy."

" What! " demanded the Tracer sharply.

Garden turned, pink and guilty. " I didn't tell
you all the circumstances of my case," he said. " I
suppose I ought to have done so."

" -Exactly," said the Tracer severely. " Why is
it necessary that you marry somebody before the
day after to-morrow?"

" Well, it's my twenty-fifth birthday "

" Somebody has left you money on condition
that you marry before your twenty-fifth birthday ?
Is that it, Mr. Garden? An uncle? An imbecile
grandfather? A sentimental aunt? "

" My Aunt Tabby Van Beekman."

"Where is she?"

" In Trinity churchyard. It's too late to expos
tulate with her, you see. Besides, it wouldn't have
done any good when she was alive."

The Tracer knitted his brows, musing, the points
of his slim fingers joined.

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" She was very proud, very autocratic," said
Garden. " I am the last of my race and my aunt
was determined that the race should not die out
with me. I don't want to marry and increase, but
she's trying to make me. At all events, I am not
going to marry any woman inferior to the type I
have created with my pencil — what the public calls
the ' Garden Girl.' And now you see that your dis
covery of this living type comes rather late. In
two days I must be legally married if I want my
Aunt Tabby's legacy ; and to-day for the first time
I hear of a girl who, you assure me, compares
favorably to my copyrighted type, but who has
a mission and an aversion to men. So you see,
Mr. Keen, that the matter is perfectly hopeless."

" I don't see anything of the kind," said Mr.
Keen firmly.

" What? — do you believe there is any
chance "

" Of your falling in love within the next hour or
so ? Yes, I do. I think there is every chance of it.
I am sure of it. But that is not the difficulty.
The problem is far more complicated."

" You mean "

" Exactly ; how to marry that girl before day
after to-morrow. That's the problem, Mr. Car-
den! — not whether you are capable of falling in
243

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

love with her. I have seen her; I know you can't
avoid falling in love with her. Nobody could. I
myself am on the verge of it ; and I am fifty : you
can't avoid loving her."

" If that were so," said Garden gravely ; " if I
were really going to fall in love with her — I would
not care a rap about my Aunt Tabby and her
money "

" You ought to care about it for this young
girl's sake. That legacy is virtually hers, not
yours. She has a right to it. No man can ever
give enough to the woman he loves; no man has
ever done so. What she gives and what he gives
are never a fair exchange. If you can balance
the account in any measure, it is your duty to do
it. Mr. Garden, if she comes to love you she may
think it very fine that you bring to her your love,
yourself, your fame, your talents, your success,
your position, your gratifying income. But I tell
you it's not enough to balance the account. It is
never enough — no, not all your devotion to her in
cluded ! You can never balance the account on
earth — all you can do is to try to balance it mate
rially and spiritually. Therefore I say, endow her
with all your earthly goods. Give all you can in
every way to lighten as much as possible man's
hopeless debt to all women who have ever loved."
244

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" You talk about it as though I were already
committed," said Garden, astonished.

" You are, morally. For a month I have, with
out her knowledge, it is true, invaded the privacy
of a very lovely young girl — studied her minutely,
possessed myself of her history, informed myself
of her habits. What excuse had I for this unless
I desired her happiness and yours ? Nobody could
offer me any inducement to engage in such a
practice unless I believed that the means might
justify a moral conclusion. And the moral con
clusion of this investigation is your marriage to
her."

" Certainly," said Garden uneasily, " but how
are we going to accomplish it by to-morrow? How
is it going to be accomplished at all? "

The Tracer of Lost Persons rose and began to
pace the long rug, clasping his hands behind his
back. Minute after minute sped; Garden stared
alternately at Mr. Keen and at the blue sky
through the open window.

" It is seldom," said Mr. Keen with evident an
noyance, " that I personally take any spectacular
part in the actual and concrete demonstrations
necessary to a successful conclusion of a client's
case. But I've got to do it this time."

He went to a cupboard, picked out a gray wig
245

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

and gray side whiskers and deliberately waved
them at Garden.

" You see what these look like?" he demanded.

" Y-yes."

" Very well. It is now noon. Do you know the
Park? Do you happen to recollect a shady turn
in the path after you cross the bridge over the
swan lake? Here ; I'll draw it for you. Now, here
is the lake; here's the esplanade and fountain, you
see. Here's the path. You follow it — so ! —
around the lake, across the bridge, then following
the lake to the right — so! — then up the wooded
slope to the left — so! Now, here is a bench. I
mark it Number One. She sits there with her book
— there she is ! "

" If she looks like that — " began Garden. And
they both laughed with the slightest trace of ex
citement.

" Here is Bench Number Two ! " resumed the
Tracer. " Here you sit — and there you are ! "

" Thanks," said Garden, laughing again.

" Now," continued the Tracer, " you must be
there at one o'clock. She will be there at one-
thirty, or earlier perhaps. A little later I will
become benignly visible. Your part is merely a
thinking part ; you are to do nothing, say nothing,
unless spoken to. And when you are spoken to
246

17

247

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

you are to acquiesce in whatever anybody says to
you, and you are to do whatever anybody requests
you to do. And, above all, don't be surprised at
anything' that may happen. You'll be nervous
enough ; I expect that. You'll probably color up
and flush and fidget; I expect that; I count on
that. But don't lose your nerve entirely ; and don't
think of attempting to escape."

"Escape! From what? From whom? "

" From her."

" Her ? "

" Are you going to follow my instructions ? "
demanded the Tracer of Lost Persons.

" I — y-yes, of course."

" Very well, then. I am going to rub some of
this under your eyes." And Mr. Keen produced
a make-up box and, walking over to Garden, calmly
darkened the skin under his eyes.

" I look as though I had been on a bat ! " ex
claimed Garden, surveying himself in a mirror.
" Do you think any girl could find any attraction
in such a countenance? "

" She will," observed the Tracer meaningly.
" Now, Mr. Garden, one last word : The moment
you find yourself in love with her, and the first
moment you have the chance to do so decently,
make love to her. She won't dismiss you ; she will
248

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

repulse you, of course, but she won't let you go.
I know what I am saying; all I ask of you is to
promise on your honor to carry out these instruc
tions. Do you promise?"

" I do."

" Then here is the map of the rendezvous which
I have drawn. Be there promptly. Good morn-
ing."

249

CHAPTER XXII

AT one o'clock that afternoon a young man
earnestly consulting a map might have been seen
pursuing his solitary way through Central Park.
Fresh green foliage arched above him, flecking the
path with fretted shadow and sunlight; the sweet
odor of flowering shrubs saturated the air; the
waters of the lake sparkled where swans swept to
and fro, snowy wings spread like sails to the fitful
June wind.

" This," he murmured, pausing at a shaded bend
in the path, " must be Bench Number One. I am
not to sit on that. This must be Bench Number
Two. I am to sit on that. So here I am," he add
ed nervously, seating himself and looking about
him with the caution of a cat in a strange back
yard.

There was nobody in sight. Reassured, he ven
tured to drop one knee over the other and lean upon
his walking stick. For a few minutes he remained
in this noncommittal attitude, alert at every sound,
anxious, uncomfortable, dreading he knew not what.
A big, fat, gray squirrel racing noisily across the
250

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

fallen leaves gave him a shock. A number of birds
came to look at him — or so it appeared to him,
for in the inquisitive scrutiny of a robin he fan
cied he divined sardonic meaning, and in the blank
yellow stare of a purple grackle, a sinister signifi
cance out of all proportion to the size of the bird.

" What an absurd position to be in ! " he
thought. And suddenly he was seized with a desire
to flee.

He didn't because he had promised not to, but
the desire persisted to the point of mania. Oh,
how he could run if he only hadn't promised not
to ! His entire being tingled with the latent possi
bilities of a burst of terrific speed. He wanted to
scuttle away like a scared rabbit. The pace of the
kangaroo would be slow in comparison. What a
record he could make if he hadn't promised not to.

He crossed his knees the other way and brooded.
The gray squirrel climbed the bench and nosed his
pockets for possible peanuts, then hopped off hope
fully toward a distant nursemaid and two children.

Growing more alarmed every time he consulted
his watch Garden attempted to stem his rising panic
with logic and philosophy, repeating : " Steady !
my son ! Don't act like this ! You're not obliged
to marry her if you don't fall in love with her;
and if you do, you won't mind marrying her.
251

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

That is philosophy. That is logic. Oh, I wonder
what will have happened to me by this time to-mor
row ! I wish it were this time to-morrow ! I wish
it were this time next month ! Then it would be all

over. Then it would be "

His muttering speech froze on his lips. Rooted
to his bench he sat staring at a distant figure ap
proaching — the figure of a young girl in a summer
gown.

Nearer, nearer she came, walking with a free-
limbed, graceful step, head high, one arm clasping
a book.

That was the way the girls he drew would have
walked had they ever lived. Even in the midst of
his fright his artist's eyes noted that: noted the
perfect figure, too, and the witchery of its grace
and contour, and the fascinating poise of her head,
and the splendid color of her hair ; noted mechani
cally the flowing lines of her gown, and the dainty
modeling of arm and wrist and throat and ear.

Then, as she reached her bench and seated her
self, she raised her eyes and looked at him. And
for the first time in his life he realized that ideal
beauty was but the pale phantom of the real and
founded on something more than imagination and
thought ; on something of vaster import than fancy
and taste and technical skill; that it was founded

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

on Life itself — on breathing, living, palpitating,
tremulous Life! — from which all true inspiration
must come.

Over and over to himself he was repeating: " Of
course, it is perfectly impossible that I can be in
love already. Love doesn't happen between two
ticks of a watch. I am merely amazed at that girl's
beauty ; that is all. I am merely astounded in the
presence of perfection ; that is all. There is noth
ing more serious the matter with me. It isn't neces
sary for me to continue to look at her ; it isn't vital
to my happiness if I never saw her again. . . .
That is — of course, I should like to see her, be
cause I never did see living beauty such as hers
in any woman. Not even in my pictures. What
superb eyes! What a fascinately delicate nose!
What a nose ! By Heaven, that nose is a nose ! I'll
draw noses that way in future. My pictures are
all out of drawing; I must fit arms into their
sockets the way hers fit! I must remember the
modeling of her eyelids, too — and that chin! and
those enchanting hands "

She looked up leisurely from her book, surveyed
him calmly, absent-eyed, then bent her head again
to the reading.

" There is something the matter with me," he
thought with a suppressed gulp. " I — if she looks
253

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

at me again — with those iris-hued eyes of a young
goddess — I — I think I'm done for. I believe I'm
done for anyway. It seems rather mad to think it.
But there is something the matter "

She deliberately looked at him again.

" It's all wrong for them to let loose a girl like
that on people," he thought to himself, " all wrong.
Everybody is bound to go mad over her. I'm go
ing now. I'm mad already. I know I am, which
proves I'm no lunatic. It isn't her beauty; it's
the way she wears it — every motion, every breath
of her. I know exactly what her voice is like.
Anybody who looks into her eyes can see what her
soul is like. She isn't out of drawing anywhere
—physically or spiritually. And when a man sees
a girl like that, why — why there's only one thing
that can happen to him as far as I can see. And
it doesn't take a year either. Heavens ! How aw
fully remote from me she seems to be."

She looked up again, calmly, but not at him. A
kindly, gray-whiskered old gentleman came totter
ing and rocking into view, his rosy, wrinkled face
beaming benediction on the world as he passed
through it — on the sunshine dappling the under
growth, on the furry squirrels sitting up on their
hind legs to watch him pass, on the stray dicky
bird that hopped fearlessly in his path, at the
254

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

young man sitting very rigid there on his bench,
at the fair, sweet-faced girl who met his aged eyes
with the gentlest of involuntary smiles. And Car-
den did not recognize him!

Who could help smiling confidently into that
benign face, with its gray hair and gray whiskers?
Goodness radiated from every wrinkle.

" Dr. Atwood ! " exclaimed the girl softly as she
rose to meet this marvelous imitation of Dr. Austin
Atwood, the great specialist on children's diseases.

The old man beamed weakly at her, halted, still
beaming, fumbled for his eyeglasses, adjusted
them, and peered closely into her face.

" Bless my soul," he smiled, " our pretty Dr.
Hollis ! "

" I — I did not suppose you would remember
me," she said, rosy with pleasure.

"Remember you? Surely, surely." He made
her a quaint, old-fashioned bow, turned, and peeped
across the walk at Garden. And Garden, looking
straight into his face, did not know the old man,
who turned to Dr. Hollis again with many myste
rious nods of his doddering head.

"You're watching him, too, are you?" he
chuckled, leaning toward her.

"Watching whom, Dr. Atwood?" she asked
surprised.

255

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Hush, child ! I thought you had noticed that
unfortunate and afflicted young man opposite."

Dr. Hollis looked curiously at Carden, then at
the old gentleman with gray whiskers.

" Please sit down, Dr. Atwood, and tell me," she
murmured. " I have noticed nothing in particular
about the young man on the bench there." And
she moved to give him room ; and the young man
opposite stared at them both as though bereft of
reason.

" A heavy book for small hands, my child," said
the old gentleman in his quaintly garrulous fash
ion, peering with dimmed eyes at the volume in
her lap.

She smiled, looking around at him.

" My, my ! " he said, tremblingly raising his
eyeglasses to scan the title on the page ; " Dr.
Lamour's famous works ! Are you studying La-
mour, child ? "

" Yes," she said with that charming inflection
youth reserves for age.

"Astonishing!" he murmured. "The coinci
dence is more than remarkable. A physician ! And
studying Lamour's Disease ! Incredible ! "

" Is there anything strange in that, Dr. At
wood ? " she smiled.

" Strange ! " He lowered his voice, peering
256

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

across at Garden. " Strange, did you say? Look
across the path at that poor young man sitting
there!"

" Yes," she said, perplexed, " I see him."

" What do you see? " whispered the old gentle
man in a shakily portentous voice. " Here you
sit reading about what others have seen ; now what
do you see ? "

" Why, only a man — rather young

" No symptoms'? "

" Symptoms? Of what? "

The old gentleman folded his withered hands
over his cane. " My child," he said, " for a year
I have had that unfortunate young man under
secret observation. He was not aware of it; it
never entered his mind that I could be observing
him with minutest attention. He may have sup
posed there was nothing the matter with him. He
was in error. I have studied him carefully. Look
closer! Are there dark circles under his eyes — or
are there not ? " he ended in senile triumph.

" There are," she began, puzzled, " but I — but
of what interest to me "

" Compare his symptoms with the symptoms in
that book you are studying," said the old gentle
man hoarsely.

" Do you mean — do you suppose — " she stam-
257

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

mered, turning her eyes on Carden, who promptly
blushed to his ears and began to fidget.

" Every symptom," muttered the old gentleman.
" Poor, poor young man ! "

She had seen Carden turn a vivid pink ; she now
saw him fidget with his walking stick; she discov
ered the blue circles under his eyes. Three symp
toms at once!

" Do you believe it possible? " she whispered
excitedly under her breath to the old gentleman be
side her. " It seems incredible ! Such a rare dis
ease! Only one single case ever described and
studied! It seems impossible that I could be so
fortunate as actually to see a case! Tell me, Dr.
Atwood, do you believe that young man is really
afflicted with Lamour's Disease?"

" There is but one way to be absolutely certain,"
said the old gentleman in a solemn voice, " and
that is to study him; corroborate your suspicions
by observing his pulse and temperature, as did Dr.
Lamour."

"But— how can I?" she faltered. " I— he
would probably object to becoming a patient of
mine "

"Ask him, child! Ask him."

" I have not courage "

" Courage should be the badge of your profes-

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

sion," said the old gentleman gravely. " When
did a good physician ever show the white feather
in the cause of humanity? "

" I — I know, but this requires a different sort of
courage."

" How," persisted the old gentleman, " can you
confirm your very natural suspicions concerning
this unfortunate young man unless you corroborate
your observations by studying him at close range?
Besides, already it seems to me that certain unmis
takable signs are visible ; I mean that strange phys
ical phase which Dr. Lamour dwells on: the sym
metry of feature and limb, the curiously spiritual
beauty. Do you not notice these? Or is my sight
so dim that I only imagine it? "

" He is certainly symmetrical — and — in a certain
way — almost handsome in regard to features," she
admitted, looking at Garden.

" Poor, poor boy ! " muttered the old gentleman,
wagging his gray whiskers. " I am too old to help
him — too old to dream of finding a remedy for the
awful malady which I am now convinced has seized
him. I shall study him no more. It is useless.
All I can do now is to mention his case to some
young, vigorous, ambitious physician — some
specialist "

" Don't! " she whispered almost fiercely, " don't
259

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

do that, Dr. Atwood! I want him, please! I
— you helped me to discover him, you see. And
his malady is to be my specialty. Please, do
you mind if I keep him all to myself and study
him?"

" But you refused, child."

" I didn't mean to. I — I didn't exactly see how
I was to study him. But I must study him ! Oh,
I mustl There will surely be some way. Please
let me. You discovered him, I admit, but I will
promise you faithfully to devote my entire life to
studying him, as the great Lamour devoted his life
for forty years to his single patient."

" But Dr. Lamour married his patient," said the
Tracer mildly.

" He — I — that need not be necessary "

" But if it should prove necessary? "

" I— you "

" Answer me, child."

She stared across at Garden, biting her red lips.
He turned pink promptly and fidgeted.

" He lias got it ! " she whispered excitedly. " Oh,
do you mind if I take him for mine? I am per
fectly wild to begin on him ! "

" You have not yet answered my question," said
the old gentleman gravely. " Do you lack the
courage to marry him if L: becomes necessary to
260

V

Would you mind sitting here for a few moments?

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

do so in order to devote your entire life to studying
him?"

" Oh — it cannot be necessary "

" You lack the courage."

She was silent.

" Braver things have been done by those of your
profession who have gone among lepers," said the
old gentleman sadly.

She flushed up instantly ; her eyes sparkled ; her
head proudly high, delicate nostrils dilated.

" I am not afraid ! " she said. " If it ever be
comes necessary, I can show courage and devotion,
as well as those of my profession who minister to
the lepers of Molokai ! Yes ; I do promise you to
marry him if I cannot otherwise study him. And
I promise you solemnly to devote my entire life
to observing his symptoms and searching for
proper means to combat them. My one ambition
in life is personally to observe and study a case
of L amour's Disease, and to give my entire life
to investigating its origin, its course, and its
cure."

The old gentleman rose, bowing with that
quaintly obsolete courtesy which was in vogue in
his youth.

" I am contented to leave him exclusively to you,
Dr. Hollis. And I wish you happiness in your
261

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

life's work — and success in your cure of this un
happy young man."

Hat in hand, he bowed again as he tottered past
her, muttering and smiling to himself and shaking
his trembling head as he went rocking on unsteady
legs out into the sunshine, where the nursemaids
and children flocked along the lake shore throwing
peanuts to the waterfowl and satiated goldfish.

Dr. Hollis looked after him, her small hand
buried among the pages of her open book. Garden
viewed his disappearing figure with guileless emo
tions. He was vaguely aware that something im
portant was about to happen to him. And it did
before he was prepared.

CHAPTER XXIII

WHEN Rosalind Hollis found herself on her feet
again a slight sensation of fright checked her for
a moment. Then, resolutely suppressing such un
worthy weakness, the lofty inspiration of her mis
sion in life dominated her, and she stepped forward
undaunted. And Garden, seeing her advance to
ward him, arose in astonishment to meet her.

For a second they stood facing each other, he
astounded, she a trifle pale but firm. Then in a
low voice she asked his pardon for disturbing him.

" I am Rosalind Hollis, a physician," she said
quietly, " and physicians are sometimes obliged to
do difficult things in the interest of their profes
sion. It is dreadfully difficult for me to speak to
you in this way. But " — she looked fearlessly at
him — " I am confident you will not misinterpret
what I have done."

He managed to assure her that he did not mis
interpret it.

She regarded him steadily; she examined the
dark circles under his eyes ; she coolly observed his
rising color under her calm inspection ; she saw him
18 263

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

fidgeting with his walking stick. She must try his
pulse !

" Would you mind if I asked you a few questions
in the interest of science? " she said earnestly.

" As a m-m-matter of fact," he stammered, " I
don't know much about science. Awfully glad to
do anything I can, you know."

" Oh, I don't mean it that way," she reassured
him. A hint of a smile tinted her eyes with brilliant
amethyst. " Would you mind if I sat here for a
few moments? Could you overlook this horrid un-
conventionality long enough for me to explain why
I have spoken to you? "

" I could indeed ! " he said, so anxiously cordial
that her lovely face grew serious and she hesitated.
But he was standing aside, hat off, placing the
bench at her disposal, and she seated herself, pla
cing her book on the bench beside her.

" Would you mind sitting here for a few mo
ments ? " she asked him gravely.

Dazed, scarcely crediting the evidence of his
senses, he took possession of the end of the bench
with the silent obedience of a schoolboy. His atti
tude was irreproachable. She was grateful for
this, and her satisfaction with herself for not hav
ing misjudged him renewed her confidence in him,
in herself, and in the difficult situation.
264

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

She began, quietly, by again telling him her
name and profession ; where she lived, and that she
was studying to be a specialist, though she did not
intimate what that specialty was to be.

Outwardly composed and attentively deferential,
his astonishment at times dominated a stronger sen
timent that seemed to grow and expand with her
every word, seizing him in a fierce possession abso
lutely and hopelessly complete.

The bewildering fascination of her mastered him.
No cool analysis of what his senses were confirming
could be necessary to convince him of his condition.
Every word of hers, every gesture, every inflection
of her sweet, clear voice, every lifting of her head,
her eyes, her perfectly gloved hands, only repeated
to him what he knew was a certainty. Never had
he looked upon such physical loveliness ; never had
he dreamed of such a voice.

She had asked him a question, and, absorbed in
the pure delight of looking at her, he had not com
prehended or answered. She flushed sensitively,
accepting his silence as refusal, and he came out of
his trance hastily.

" I beg your pardon ; I did not quite understand
your question, Miss Hollis — I mean, Dr. Hollis."

" I asked you if you minded my noting your
pulse," she said.

265

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

He stretched out his right hand; she stripped
off her glove, laid the tip of her middle finger on
his wrist, and glanced down at the gold watch
which she held.

" I am wondering," he said, laughing uncer
tainly, " whether you believe me to be ill. Of
course it is easy to see that you have found some
thing unusual about me — something of particular
interest to a physician. Is there anything very
dreadful going to happen to me, Dr. Hollis? I
feel perfectly well."

"Are you sure you feel well?" she asked, so
earnestly that the smile on his lips faded out.

" Absolutely. Is my pulse queer? "

" It is not normal."

He could easily account for that, but he said
nothing.

She questioned him for a few minutes, noted his
pulse again, looked closely at the bluish circles
under his eyes. Naturally he flushed up and grew
restless under the calm, grave, beautiful eyes.

" I — I have an absolutely new and carefully
sterilized thermometer — ': She drew it from a tiny
gold-initialed pocket case, and looked wistfully at
him.

"You want to put that into my mouth?" he
asked, astonished.

266

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" If you don't mind."

She held it up, shook it once or twice, and de
liberately inserted it between his lips. And there
he sat, round-eyed, silent, the end of the ther
mometer protruding at a rakish angle from the
comer of his mouth. And he grew redder and
redder.

" I don't wish to alarm you," she was saying,
" but all this is so deeply significant, so full of
vital interest to me — to the world, to science — • — "

" What have I got, in Heaven's name? " he said
thickly, the thermometer wiggling in his mouth.

" Ah ! " she exclaimed with soft enthusiasm,
clasping her pretty ungloved hands, " I cannot be
sure yet — I dare not be too sanguine "

" Do you mean that you want me to have some
thing queer? " he blurted out, while the thermome
ter wiggled with every word he uttered.

" N-no, of course, I don't want you to be ill,"
she said hastily. " Only, if you are ill it will
be a wonderful thing for me. I mean — a — that
I am intensely interested in certain symptoms
which "

She gently withdrew the glass tube from his lips
and examined it carefully.

" /s there anything the matter? " he insisted,
looking at the instrument over her shoulder.
267

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

She did not reply ; pure excitement rendered her
speechless.

" I seem to feel all right," he added uneasily.
" If you really believe that there's anything wrong
with me, I'll stop in to see my doctor."

" Your doctor ! " she repeated, appalled.

" Yes, certainly. Why not? "

" Don't do that ! Please don't do that ! I— why
/ discovered this case. I beg you most earnestly to
let me observe it. You don't understand the im
portance of it ! You don't begin to dream of the
rarity of this case ! How much it means to me ! "

He flushed up. " Do you intend to intimate
that I am afflicted with some sort of rare and
s-s-trange d-d-disease? " he stammered.

" I dare not pronounce upon it too confidently,"
she said with enthusiasm ; " I have not yet abso
lutely determined the nature of the disease. But,
oh, I am beginning to hope

" Then I am diseased ! " he faltered. " I've got
something anyhow; is that it? Only you are not
yet perfectly sure what it is called! Is that the
truth, Miss Hollis?"

" How can I answer positively until I have had

time to observe these symptoms? It requires time

to be certain. I do not wish to alarm you, but

it is my duty to say to you that you should

268

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

immediately pla,ce yourself under medical obser
vation." '

"You think that?"

u I do ; I am convinced of it. Please understand
me; I do not pronounce upon these visible symp
toms ; I do not express an unqualified opinion ; but
I could be in a position to do so if you consent to
place yourself under my observations and care.
For these suspicious symptoms are not only very
plainly apparent to me, but were even noted by
that old gentleman whom you may perhaps have
observed conversing with me."

" Yes, I saw him. Who is he? "

" Dr. Austin Atwood," said the girl solemnly.

" Oh ! And you say he also observed something
queer about me? What did he see? Are there
spots on me? Am I turning any remarkable color?
Am I — " And in the very midst of his genuine
alarm he suddenly remembered the make-up box
and what the Tracer of Lost Persons had done to
his eyes. Was that it? Where was the Tracer,
anyway? He had promised to appear. And then
Garden recollected the gray wig and whiskers that
the Tracer had waved at him from the cupboard,
bidding him note them well. Could that beaming,
benignant, tottering old gentleman have been the
Tracer of Lost Persons himself? And the same
269

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

instant Garden was sure of it, spite of the miracu
lous change in the man.

Then logic came to his aid; and, deducing with
care and patience, an earnest conviction grew
within him that the dark circles under his eyes
and the tottering old gentleman resembling Dr.
Austin Atwood had a great deal to do with
this dreadful disease which Dr. Hollis desired to
study.

He looked at the charming girl beside him, and
she looked back at him very sweetly, very earnestly,
awaiting his decision.

For a moment he realized that she had really
scared him, and in the reaction of relief an over
whelming desire to laugh seized him. He managed
to suppress it, to compose himself. Then he re
membered the Tracer's admonition to acquiesce in
everything, do what he was told to do, not to run
away, and to pay his court at the first decent
opportunity.

He had no longer any desire to escape; he was
quite willing to do anything she desired.

" Do you really want to study me, Dr. Hollis? "
he asked, feeling like a hypocrite.

" Indeed I do," she replied fervently.

" You believe me worth studying? "

" Oh, truly, truly, you are ! You don't suspect
270

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

— you cannot conceive how important you have
suddenly become to me."

" Then I think you had better take my case, Dr.
Hollis," he said seriously. " I begin now to realize
that you believe me to be a sort of freak — an
afflicted curiosity, and that, in the interest of medi
cine, I ought to go to an asylum or submit myself
to the ceaseless observation of a competent private
physician."

" I — I think it best for you to place yourself in
my care," she said. " Will you? "

" Yes," he said, " I will. I'll do anything in the
world you ask."

" That is very — very generous, very noble of
you ! " she exclaimed, flushing with excitement and
delight. " It means a great deal to me — it means,
perhaps, a fame that I scarcely dared dream of
even in my most enthusiastic years. I am too
grateful to express my gratitude coherently ; I am
trying to say to you that I thank you ; that I recog
nize in you those broad, liberal, generous qualities
which, from your appearance and bearing, I — I
thought perhaps you must possess."

She colored again very prettily; he bowed, and
ventured to remind her that she had not yet given
him the privilege of naming himself.

"That is true!" she said, surprised. "I had
271

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

quite forgotten it." But when he named himself
she raised her head, startled.

" Victor Garden ! " she repeated. " You are the
artist, Victor Garden ! "

" Yes," he said, watching her dilated eyes like
two violet-tinted jewels.

For a minute she sat looking at him; and im
perceptibly a change came into her face, and its
bewildering beauty softened as the vivid tints died
out, leaving her cheeks almost pale.

" It is — a pity," she said under her breath. All
the excitement, all the latent triumph, all the
scarcely veiled eager enthusiasm had gone from
her now.

" A pity ? " he repeated, smiling.
6 Yes. I wish it had been only an ordinary man.
I — why should this happen to you? You have
done so much for us all — made us forget ourselves
in the beauty of what you offer us. Why should
this happen to you ! "

" But you have not told me yet what has hap
pened to me, Miss Hollis."

She looked up, almost frightened.
" Are you our Victor Garden? I do not wish to
believe it! You have done so much for the world
— you have taught us to understand and desire all
that is noble and upright and clean and beautiful !
272

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

— to desire it, to aspire toward it, to venture to live
the good, true, wholesome lives that your penciled
creations must lead — must lead to wear such beau
tiful bodies and such divine eyes ! "

" Do you care for my work? " he asked, aston
ished and moved.

" I? Yes, of course I do. Who does not? "

" Many," he replied simply.

" I am sorry for them," she said.

They sat silent for a long while.

At first his overwhelming desire was to tell her
of the deception practiced upon her; but he could
not do that, because in exposing himself he must
fail in loyalty to the Tracer of Lost Persons. Be
sides, she would not believe him. She would think
him mad if he told her that the old gentleman she
had taken for Dr. Atwood was probably Mr. Keen,
the Tracer of Lost Persons. Also, he himself was
not absolutely certain about it. He had merely
deduced as much.

" Tell me," he said very gently, " what is the
malady from which you believe I am suffer-
ing? "

For a moment she remained silent, then, face
averted, laid her finger on the book beside her.

" That," she said unsteadily.

He read aloud : " Lamour's Disease. A Treatise
273

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

in sixteen volumes by Ero S. Lamour, M.D., M.S.,
F.B.A., M.F.H."

"All that?" he asked guiltily.
" I don't know, Mr. Garden. Are you laughing
at me? Do you not believe me? " She had turned
suddenly to confront him, surprising a humorous
glimmer in his eyes.

" I really do not believe I am seriously ill,5' he
said, laughing in spite of her grave eyes.

" Then perhaps you had better read a little
about what Lamour describes as the symptoms of
this malady," she said sadly.
" Is it fatal? " he inquired.
" Ultimately. That is why I desire to spend my
life in studying means to combat it. That is why
I desire you so earnestly to place yourself under
my observation and let me try."

"Tell me one thing," he said ; " is it contagious?
Is it infectious? No? Then I don't mind your
studying me all you wish, Dr. Hollis. You may
take my temperature every ten minutes if you care
to. You may observe my pulse every five minutes
if you desire. Only please tell me how this is to be
accomplished ; because, you see, I live in the Sher
wood Studio Building, and you live on Madison
Avenue."

" I — I have a ward — a room — fitted up with
274

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

every modern surgical device — every improve
ment," she said. " It adjoins my office. Would
you mind living there for a while — say for a week
at first — until I can be perfectly certain in my
diagnosis? "

" Do you intend to put me to bed? " he asked,
appalled.

" Oh, no ! Only I wish to watch you carefully
and note your symptoms from moment to moment.
I also desire to try the effects of certain medicines
on you "

" What kind of medicines ? " he asked uneasily.

" I cannot tell yet. Perhaps antitoxin ; I don't
know; perhaps formalin later. Truly, Mr. Car-
den, this case has taken on a graver, a more inti
mate significance since I have learned who you are.
I would have worked hard to save any life ; I shall
put my very heart and soul into my work to save
you, who have done so much for us all."

The trace of innocent emotion in her voice moved
him.

" I am really not ill," he said unsteadily. " I
cannot let you think I am —

" Don't speak that way, Mr. Garden. I — I am
perfectly miserable over it ; I don't feel any happi
ness in my discovery now — not the least bit. I
had rather live my entire life without seeing one
275

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

case of Lamour's Disease than to believe you are
afflicted with it."

" But I'm not, Miss Hollis ! — really, I am
not "

She looked at him compassionately for a mo
ment, then rose.

" It is best that you should be informed as to
your probable condition," she said. " In Lamour's
works, volume nine, you had better read exactly
what Lamour says. Do you mind coming to the
office with me, Mr. Garden ? "

"Now?"

" Yes. The book is there. Do you mind com-
ing? "

" No — no, of course not." And, as they turned
away together under the trees : " You don't intend
to begin observing me this afternoon, do you?"
he ventured.

" I think it best if you can arrange your affairs.
Can you, Mr. Garden? "

" Why, yes, I suppose I can. Did you mean
for me to begin to occupy that surgical bedroom
at once? "

" Do you mind? "

" N-no. I'll telephone my servants to pack a
steamer trunk and send it around to your apart
ment this evening. And — where am I to board ? "
276

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" I have a dining room," she said simply. " My
apartment consists of the usual number of servants
and rooms, including my office, and my observa
tion ward which you will occupy."

He walked on, troubled.

" I only w-want to ask one or two things, Dr.
Hollis. Am I to be placed on a diet? I hate diets ! "

" Not at once."

"May I smoke?"

" Certainly," she said, smiling.

" And you won't p-put me — send me to bed too
early?"

" Oh, no ! The later you sit up the better, be
cause I shall wish to take your temperature every
ten minutes and I shall feel very sorry to arouse
you."

" You mean you are coming in to wake me up
every ten minutes and put that tube in my
mouth ? " he asked, aghast.

" Only every half-hour, Mr. Garden. Can't you
stand it for a week? "

" Well," he said, " I — I suppose I can if you
can. Only, upon my honor, there is really nothing
the matter with me, and I'll prove it to you out of
your own book."

" I wish you could, Mr. Garden. I should be
only too happy to give you back to the world with
277

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

a clear bill of health if you can convince me I am
wrong. Do you not believe me? Indeed, indeed
I am not selfish and wicked enough to wish you this
illness, no matter how rare it is ! "

' The rarer a disease is the madder it makes
people who contract it," he said. " I should be
the maddest man in Manhattan if I really did
have Lamour's malady. But I haven't. There is
only one malady afflicting me, and I am waiting
for a suitable opportunity to tell you all about it,
but "

' Tell me now," she said, raising her eyes to
his.

" Not now."

"To-night?"

" I hope so. I will if I can, Miss Hollis."

"But you must not fear to tell a physician about
anything which troubles you, Mr. Garden."

" I'll remember that," he said thoughtfully, as
they emerged from the Park and crossed to Madi
son Avenue.

A moment later he hailed a car and they both
entered.

278

CHAPTER XXIV

No, there could be no longer any doubt in her
mind as she went into her bedroom, closed the door,
and, unhooking the telephone receiver, called up the
great specialist in rare diseases, Dr. Austin At
wood, M.S., F.B.A., M.F.H.

" Dr. Atwood," she said with scarcely concealed
emotion, " this is Dr. Rosalind Hollis."

" How-de-do ? " squeaked the aged specialist
amiably.

" Oh, I am well enough, thank you, doctor —
except in spirits. Dr. Atwood, you were right!
He has got it, and I am perfectly wretched ! "

" Who has got what ? " retorted the voice of
Atwood.

" The unfortunate young gentleman we saw to
day in the Park "

"What park?"

" Why, Central Park, doctor "

" Central Park ! / haven't been in Central Park
for ten years, my child."

" Why, Dr. Atwood ! — A — is this Dr. Austin
Atwood with whom I am talking? "
19 279

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Not the least doubt ! And you are that pretty
Dr. Hollis — Rosalind Hollis, who consulted me in
those charity cases, are you not ? "

" I certainly am. And I wanted to say to you
that I have the unfortunate patient now under
closest observation here in my own apartment. I
have given him the room next to the office. And,
doctor, you were perfectly right. He shows every
symptom of the disease — he is even inclined to sen-
timentalism; he begins to blush and fidget and
look at me — a — in that unmistakable manner — not
that he isn't well-bred and charming — indeed he is
most attractive, and it grieves me dreadfully to see
that he already is beginning to believe himself in
love with the first person of the opposite sex he
encounters — I mean that he — that I cannot mis
take his attitude toward me — which is perfectly
correct, only one cannot avoid seeing the curious
infatuation "

" What the dickens is all this? " roared the great
specialist, and Dr. Hollis jumped.

" I was only confirming your diagnosis, doctor,"
she explained meekly.

"What diagnosis?"

" Yours, doctor. I have confirmed it, I fear.
And the certainty has made me perfectly miser
able, because his is such a valuable life to the world,
280

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

and he himself is such a splendid, wholesome, noble
specimen of youth and courage, that I cannot bear
to believe him incurably afflicted."

" Good Heavens ! " shouted the doctor, " what
has he got and wlio is he? "

" He is Victor Garden, the celebrated artist, and
he has Lamour's Disease ! " she gasped.

There was a dead silence ; then : " Keep him there
until I come! Chloroform him if he attempts to
escape ! "

And the great specialist rang off excitedly.

So Rosalind Hollis went back to the lamp-lit
office where, in a luxurious armchair, Garden was
sitting, contentedly poring over the ninth volume
of Lamour's great treatise and smoking his second
cigar.

" Dr. Atwood is coming here," she said in a dis
couraged voice, as he rose with alacrity to place
her chair.

"Oh! What for?"

" T-to see you, Mr. Garden."

"Who? Me? Great Scott! I don't want to
be slapped and pinched and polled by a man! I
didn't expect that, you know. I'm willing enough
to have you observe me in the interest of human
ity "

" But, Mr. Garden, he is only called in for con-
281

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

sultation. I — I have a dreadful sort of desperate
hope that perhaps I may have made a mistake;
that possibly I am in error."

" No doubt you are," he said cheerfully. " Let
me read a few more pages, Dr. Hollis, and then I
think I shall be all ready to dispute my symptoms,
one by one, and convince you what really is the
trouble with me. And, by the way, did Dr. At-
wood seem a trifle astonished when you told him
about me? "

"A trifle — yes," she said uncertainly. " He is
a very, very old man; he forgets. But he is
coming."

" Oh ! And didn't he appear to recollect seeing
me in the Park?"

" N-not clearly. He is very old, you know.
But he is coming here."

" Exactly — as a friend of mine puts it," smiled
Garden. " May I be permitted to use your tele
phone a moment? "

" By all means, Mr. Garden. You will find it
there in my bedroom."

So he entered her pretty bedroom and, closing
the door tightly, called up the Tracer of Lost
Persons.

" Is that you, Mr. Keen? This is Mr. Garden.
I'm head over heels in love. I simply must win
282

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

her, and I'm going to try. If I don't — if she will
not li'sten to me — I'll certainly go to smash. And
what I want you to do is to prevent Atwood from
butting in. Do you understand? . . . Yes, Dr.
Austin Atwood. Keep him away somehow. . . .
Yes, I'm here, at Dr. Hollis's apartments, under
anxious observation. . . . She is the only woman
in the world! I'm mad about her — and getting
madder every moment! She is the most perfectly
splendid specimen of womanhood — what? Oh,
yes; I rang you up to ask you whether it was
you in the Park to-day? — that old gentleman —
What ! Yes, in Central Park. Yes, this after
noon ! No, he didn't resemble you ; and Dr. Hollis
took him for Dr. Atwood. . . . What are you
laughing about? ... I can hear you laughing.
. . . Was it you? . . . What do I think? Why,
1 don't know exactly what to think, but I suppose
it must have been you. Was it? . . . Oh, I see.
You don't wish me to know. Certainly, you are
quite right. Your clients have no business behind
the scenes. I only asked out of curiosity. . . .
All right. Good-by."

He came back to the lamp-lit office, which was
more of a big, handsome, comfortable living room
than a physician's quarters, and for a moment or
two he stood on the threshold, looking around.
283

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

In the pleasant, subdued light of the lamp
Rosalind Hollis looked up and around, smiling in
voluntarily to see him standing there; then, serious,
silent, she dropped her eyes to the pages of the
volume he had discarded — volume nine of Lamour's
great works.

Even with the evidence before her, corroborated
in these inexorably scientific pages which she sat so
sadly turning, she found it almost impossible to
believe that this big, broad-shouldered, attractive
young man could be fatally stricken.

Twice her violet eyes stole toward him; twice
the thick lashes veiled them, and the printed
pages on her knee sprang into view, and the
cold precision of the type confirmed her fears
remorselessly :

" The trained scrutiny of the observer will de
tect in the victim of this disease a peculiar and in
definable charm — a strange symmetry which, on
closer examination, reveals traces of physical beauty
almost superhuman "

Again her eyes were lifted to Garden ; again she
dropped her white lids. Her worst fears were con
firmed.

Meanwhile he stood on the threshold looking
at her, his pulses racing, his very soul staring
through his eyes; and, within him, every sense
284

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

clamoring out revolt at the deception, demanding
confession and its penalty.

" I can't stand this ! " he blurted out ; and she
looked up quickly, her face blanched with fore
boding.

" Are you in pain ? " she asked.

" No — not that sort of pain ! I — won't you
please believe that I am not ill? I'm imposing on
you. I'm an impostor ! There's nothing whatever
the trouble with me except — something that I want
to tell you — if you'll let me "

" Why should you hesitate to confide in a physi
cian, Mr. Garden ? "

He came forward slowly. She laid her small
hand on the empty chair which faced hers and he
sank into it, clasping his restless hands under his
chin.

" You are feeling depressed," she said gently.
Depression was a significant symptom. Three
chapters were devoted to it.

" I'm depressed, of course. I'm horribly de
pressed and ashamed of myself, because there is
nothing on earth the matter with me, and I've let
you think there is."

She smiled mournfully; this was another symp
tom of a morbid state. She turned, unconsciously,
to page 379 to verify her observation.
285

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" See here, Miss Hollis," he broke out, " haven't
I any chance to convince you that I am not ill? I
want to be honest without involving a — a friend
of mine. I can't endure this deception. Won't
you let me prove to you that these symptoms are —
are only significant of something else? "

She looked straight at him, considering him in
silence.

" Let us begin with those dark circles under my
eyes," he said desperately. " I found some cold-
cream in my room and — look! They are prac
tically gone! At any rate, if there is a sort of
shadow left it's because I use my eyes in my pro
fession."

" Dr. Lamour says that the dark circles disap
pear, anyway," said the girl, unconvinced. " Cold-
cream had nothing to do with it."

"But it didl Really it did. And as for the
other symptoms, I — well, I can't help my pulses
when y-you t-t-touch me."

" Please, Mr. Garden."

" I don't mean to be impertinent. I am trying
my hardest to tell the truth. And my pulses do
gallop when you test them ; they're galloping now !
This very moment ! "

" Let me try them," she said coolly, laying her
hand on his wrist.

286

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" Didn't I say so ! " he insisted grimly. " And
I'm turning red, too. But those symptoms mean
something else ; they mean you ! "

" Mr. Garden ! "

" I can't help saying so

" I know it," she said soothingly ; " these senti
mental outbursts are part of the disease "

" Good Heavens ! Won't you try to believe me !
There's nothing in the world the matter with me
except that I am — am — p-p-perfectly f-f-fasci-
nated "

" You must struggle against it, Mr. Garden.
That is only part of the—

" It isn't ! It isn't ! It's you ! It's your mere
presence, your personality, your charm, your
beauty, your loveliness, your '

" Mr. Garden, I beg of you ! I — it is part of
my duty to observe symptoms, but — but you are
making it very hard for me — very difficult "

" I am only proving to you that it isn't La-
mour's Disease which does stunts with my pulses,
my temperature, my color. I'm not morbid ex
cept when I realize my deception. I'm not de
pressed except when I think how far you are
from me — how far above me — how far out of
reach of such a man as I am — how desperately

I— I "

287

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

" D-don't you think I had better administer a
s-s-sedative, Mr. Garden?" she said, distressed.

" I don't care. I'll take anything you give me
—as long as you give it to me. I'll swallow pint
after pint of pills! I'll fletcherize 'em! I'll lux
uriate in poison — anything "

She was hastily running through the pages of
the ninth volume to see whether the symptoms of
sentimental excitement ever turned into frenzy.

" What can you learn from that book? " he in
sisted, leaning forward to see what she was read
ing. " Anyway, Dr. Lamour married his patient
so early in the game that all the symptoms disap
peared. And I believe the trouble with his patient
was my trouble. She had every symptom of it
until he married her! She was in love with him,
that is absolutely all ! "

Rosalind Hollis raised her beautiful, incredulous
eyes.

" What do you mean, Mr. Garden ? "

" I mean that, in my opinion, there's no such
disease as Lamour's Disease. That young girl was
in love with him. Then he married her at last, and
—presto! — all the symptoms vanished — the pulse,
the temperature, the fidgets, the blushes, the
moods, the whole business ! "

;t W-what about the strangely curious manifes-

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

tations of physical beauty — superhuman sym
metry, Mr. Carden ? "

" Do you notice them in me? " he gasped.

" A — yes — in a m-modified measure "

" In me? "

" Certainly ! " she said firmly ; but the slow glow
suffusing her cheeks was disconcerting her. Then
his own face began to reflect the splendid color in
hers ; their eyes met, dismayed.

" There are sixteen volumes about this disease,"
she said. " There mwt be such a disease ! "

" There is," he said. " I have it badly. But
I never had it before I first saw you in the
Park!"

" Mr. Carden — this is the wildest absurdity—

" I know it. Wildness is a symptom. I'm mad
as a hatter. I've got every separate symptom, and
I wish it was infectious and contagious and catch
ing and fatal ! "

She made an effort to turn the pages to the chap
ter entitled " Manias and Illusions," but he laid
his hand across the book and his clear eyes defied
her.

" Mr. Carden "

Her smooth hand trembled under his, then, sud
denly nerveless, relaxed. With an effort she lifted
her head ; their eyes met, spellbound.
289

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

;< You have every symptom," he said unsteadily
— " every one ! What have you to say ? "

Her fascinated eyes held his.

"What have you to s«vy?" he repeated under
his breath — " you, with every symptom, and your
heavenly radiant beauty to confirm them — that
splendid youthful loveliness which blinds and stuns
me as I look — as I jspeak — as I tell you that I love
you. That is my malady; that is the beginning
and the end of it ; love ! "

She sat speechless, immovable, as one under en
chantment.

" All my life," he said, " I have spent in paint
ing shadows. But the shadows were those dim
celestial shapes cast by your presence in the world.
You tell me that the world is better for my work;
that I have offered my people beauty and a sort
of truth, which they had never dreamed of until I
revealed it? Yet what inspired me was the shadow
only, for I had never seen the substance; I had
never believed I should ever see the living source
of the shadows which inspired me. And now I
see; now I have seen with my own eyes. Now the
confession of faith is no longer a blind creed, born
of instinct. You live! You are you! What I
believed from necessity I find proved in fact. The
occult no longer can sway one who has seen. And
290

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

you, who, without your knowledge or mine, have
always been the one and only source of any good
in me or in my work — why is it strange that I loved
you at first sight? — that I worshiped you at first
breath? — I, who, like him who raises his altar to
' the unknown god,' raised my altar to truth and
beauty? And a miracle has answered me."

She rose, the beautiful dazed eyes meeting his,
both hands clasping the ninth volume of Lamour's
great monograph to her breast as though to pro
tect it from him — from him who was threatening
her, enthralling her, thrilling her with his magic
voice, his enchanted youth, the masterful mystery
of his eyes. What was he saying to her? What
was this mounting intoxication sweeping her senses
—this delicious menace threatening her very will?
What did he want with her? What was he asking?
What was he doing now — with both her hands in
his, and her gaze deeply lost in his — and the ninth
volume of Lamour on the floor between them,
sprawling there, abandoned, waving its helpless,
discredited leaves in air — discredited, abandoned,
obsolete as her own specialty — her life's work!
He had taken that, too — taken her life's work
from her. And in return she was holding noth
ing! — nothing except a young man's hands —
strong, muscular hands which, after all, were
291

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSOXS

holding her own imprisoned. So she had nothing
in exchange for the ninth volume of Lamour ; and
her life's work had been annihilated by a smile;
and she was very much alone in the world — very
isolated and very youthful.

After a while she emerged from the chaos of
attempted reflection and listened to what he was
saying. He spoke very quietly, very distinctly,
not sparing himself, laying bare every deception
without involving anybody except himself.

He told her the entire history of his case, ex
cluding Mr. Keen in person ; he told her about his
aunt, about his birthday, about his determination
to let the legacy go. Then in a very manly way
he told her that he had never before loved a woman ;
and fell silent, her hands a dead weight in his.

She was surprised that she could experience no
resentment. A curious inertia crept over her. She
was tired of expectancy, tired of effort, weary of
the burden of decision. Life and its problems
overweighted her. Her eyes wandered to his broad
young shoulders, then were raised to his face.

" What shall we do ? " she asked innocently.

Unresisting, she suffered him to explain. His
explanation was not elaborate ; he only touched his
lips to her hands and straightened up, a trifle
pale.

292

THE TRACER OF LOST PERSONS

After a moment they walked together to the door
and he took his hat and gloves from the rack.

" Will you come to-morrow morning ? " she
asked.

" Yes."

" Come early. I am quite certain of how mat
ters are with me. Everything has gone out of my
life — everything I once cared for — all the fa
miliar things. So come early, for I am quite alone
without you."

" And I without you, Rosalind."

" That is only right," she said simply. " I shall
cast no more shadows for you. . . . Are you go
ing? . . . Oh, I know it is best that you should
go, but "

He halted. She laid both hands in his.

" We both have it," she faltered — " every symp
tom. And — you will come early, won't you? "

THE END

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